Victims Don't Tell
by Necrofeeliak
Summary: "Victims of traumatic and sexual abuse are silent. They choose to keep their self hatred to themselves. I hate him as much as he hates me, we're both sick. We're Romeo and Juliet. A perfect fucking love story. The only true kind left." Rated MA. Kink. BP!Kurt/Intersex!Kurt Non-Con Dub-Con
1. Victims don't Tell

**Update 1/20/2013**

**This story is officially now BP!Kurt**

** (I have chosen this because the only way I can concentrate enough to continue the story is if I switch it to this. You don't have to like it, but this story will never get written otherwise.)**

**I REWROTE THIS CHAPTER!**

**Rapist!Karofsky. The faint of heart be warned, there will be violent rape scenarios, scenes, insinuations, innuendos, bullying and tormenting. If you are sensitive to the subject, to emotional pain and anguish, or you can't stand seeing Kurt hurt. I would suggest not reading.**

**Blaine is removed all together from the story.**

**Kurt returns from Dalton early, Season 2. He was cuter in season 2 anyway. Eww his hair in season 3. Wtf. **

**By virtue of Rapist!Karofsky this story is obviously AU. I'm aware it's not cannon. I made Dave smarter and more sadistic than he ever was.)**

**Chapter Rating-** _**[Rated M for:**__**Strong Language, Violence, Rape Themes, Homophobic Insults, Sexual Themes]**_

When I looked at _him_, I felt that deep ache in the pit of my stomach, sulfurous and all consuming, the way you feel when you see something so absolutely fragile, so delicate that you are struck with the overwhelming desire to tear it apart, shatter it to a million pieces, and leave it crippled.

It's inexplicable, but then… I've always felt that way.

Everything that was beautiful had to be mine, and if it was someone else's it had to be broken.

But with _him_ it's different; the feeling is deeper, lower, past my stomach. It lingers in my groin, warm and distracting. Sexual. Sometimes I know it. Other times I deny it. The idea of him whimpering, struggling, bruised, hurt and bleeding. Somehow the idea is so potent I can feel it… oh god, sometimes I can taste it.

He's such a _little girl_.

Every time I see his face, his fucking feminine face, and his fucking feminine gestures, I think to myself: _The faggot piece of shit wants to be a girl, the fag aught to get treated like a little slutty girl._ _I bet he'd even look good in a plaid skirt, all trussed up, and blindfolded. _

I was just drawn to his weakness, like a wasp to the sweet honey of his delicacy. I longed to own him. To have him.

There is something about Kurt that makes me want to beat him senseless, to take everything precious to him and fuck it all up, screw into the warmth of his body and just… just _fuck_. I bet that didn't even make me gay, the faggot was such a _little bitch_. All cute and petite. I wonder if he'd still strut if he knew what I wanted to do to him.

Up till now, all I could do was shove him, push him, brief, senseless, anyone could do that. What I really wanted was so much more… so much more… emotional, with feeling, with _passion._

_His sweet sad face, bleary confusion, teary eyes, something mingling with shock._

I would think about how hard he hit the locker later, imagine the bruises blossoming under his pale porcelain skin. I'd lick my lips, gather the scent of blood and find some place quiet and alone and satisfy myself on it. Pumping off a delicious climax to every time I shoved his pathetic body to that metal.

And every day I pushed him a little harder.

It is like pornography. Addictive. You see a little, and for a few days that is enough, but then you have to see a little more, and a little more… and before you know it your computer is full and your inbox is a disgusting heap of your darkest pleasures.

I thought I had it all. I thought I would have him for years… until I didn't.

My little muse, my perfect little song bird, he left me. He left me after a close call, after my suspension, and I came back to an empty school. Big, empty, and filled with emptier people.

I thought I would die. I thought I would go mad in the absence of his flirtatious smile and the girly tilt of his head… I thought he'd killed me, fucking cupid bringing down a dragon. I stopped eating. I couldn't see anyone, I could feel anything. I was no one… and I started running, I started lifting, I started hiding inside routines, inside normality, but on the inside… I thought of nothing else.

They were all fucking shocked when I lost the weight, when I lost my chins and redefined my jaw. I guess I could thank Kurt for that. For making me so fucking crazy I started up chain smoking. He probably wouldn't even recognize me, not now. The Coach loved me though, told me how proud she was of me, told me I finally got my life on track, when really… I was falling to bits.

Glad I fooled them.

But my problems were deeper, much deeper. I cleaned myself up, got damn fucking excellent grades, I made my exterior the perfect lie so that I could indulge myself on the inside. So that in my heart, I didn't have to lie.

And then… he was back…

I was completely unprepared.

My withdraw from him had been painful, agonizing, eternal, endless, with no relief in sight, and suddenly…

It was _over._

my heart thundered in my chest when I saw him.

The bitch had returned to_ this_ school because Dalton probably didn't allow him to wear his makeup or his corsets. They had a dress code, suites and ties, and boyish things he would never understand.

Who the fuck cares why he is back? It was just a reason. Something I didn't give two shits about, like I didn't care why he left… all I cared about was that he was gone. All I cared about was that he was back.

He was hurt, limping when I saw him, deeply wounded, bleeding all over the place. Leaving smearing trails of red wherever he walked. It wasn't physical, but when you are an obsessive son of a bitch you notice things, little looks and little gestures. He made me obsessive. He'd made me like this, compulsive, nervous, sick.

Princess Faggot had his heart broken. Probably by that _other_ guy he was so desperate to get. The _gay_ one, who likely passed him up for a _REAL_ man.

Thank god… because he still looked so very, very sweet. Innocent. Pure.

I could even smell virginity still clinging to his clothes, the kind that little girls have when they wear around tiaras and pink frilly dresses and think life will be a fairytale forever. His undying rose was a little wilted, his entire frame weighed with rejection, but that was how I like him best.

He thought he is safe. He thought I'd forgotten him. Thought I had moved on. But I couldn't. I never would. I hated him, and when you hate someone you can't forget them… because hate and love are side by side, equal, powerful things that even I couldn't reckon with.

He devised routes through the hallways to avoid me, stopped using the dressing rooms, and stopped lingering anywhere without a Glee freak clinging to his arm.

He was my perfect princess locked in a perfect tower, he thought I would never find him, never reach him, never catch him… but I would. I could outrun him now, out draw him… the game was up. It was over.

I needed. I wanted. I would have.

I thought a lot, I thought too much. I didn't act enough. That had always been my problem. I'd looked like an idiot. I'd done everything wrong. Never again. I swore. Never again.

"Welcome back, lady face."

His expression alone was worth all that pain. He froze, halfway through pushing his bag into his locker. His skin went livid and pale, the color drained out of his complexion, even his sweet pouty lips became a pink rose color, and his gaze avoided me, flickering away up and down the hall.

"I'll tell the principal." He shot back quickly, not looking me in the face, rather… his blue gaze trembled and hovered at the level of my neck.

_I wondered if his stomach twisted. Mmmn, I wondered if he felt sick._

"You won't tell _anyone_, trust me." I knew what I meant, I knew what I meant the moment I reached towards him and he retreated till his back was against his open locker door.

I knew the second his suddenly terrified body language sent heat gathering at my groin, I knew the moment I recognized it as arousal. I knew what I wanted.

I pressed a finger to his chest, leaned in nice and close, and I felt his breath quicken, warm spurts of air against my face, smelled like strawberry mint.

"You wouldn't dare." I circled my finger over his thin chest and smirked at him, pressed there, terrified. For all the good Dalton had done him. I traced my finger a tad lower.

God, I longed to let him know just what I wanted from him, a sweet passage inside him, so he could feel me… so he could always feel me.

I saw the tears well in his baby blue eyes. He was so vulnerable when he cried. If this hadn't been school, if I had caught him alone, in some other place… some other time. I knew what I would do. Sick fuck that I am. I didn't think I could control myself for much longer… I couldn't stand it. I needed him. I needed him SO bad…

"Please, don't… don't…" Kurt's chin dropped and his tears broke free to slide down his reddened cheeks. He quivered, and flinched against my touch, like a beaten puppy, pathetic. Unable to help himself.

A sense of warmth sparked down my body as I watched him try not to cry, pathetic, weak, pretty _little_ thing.

Something snapped in me.

In that moment I hated myself, hated him, hated his fucking homosexual face.

I grabbed him under the chin and shoved his head back, slamming it against the locker with an audible crash of metal on skull.

The smaller boy's eyes squinted against the pain, his back arched and another tear streaked his cheek leaving a salty sweet trail against his soft skin. He slid down the locker in front of me with an audible gasp, his legs crumpling under him, in shock and horror, begging for mercy.

"Please, Karofsky… don't. I'm sorry… I'm sorry for you…"

Another wave of heat, I wanted to groan but I didn't. I didn't move either as he sank to the floor in front of me, a puppet with broken strings.

_Fuck,_ what a perfect position for him. With his gaze cast to the floor, shaking.

Without thinking I reached down to him, ran my fingers through his brunette hair, pushing his head back forcefully. Back against the metal of the locker so I could see the feminine architecture of his beautiful face.

_Ohhh god... sometimes when he smiled… he looked he had no teeth, just a warm wet mouth. I bet it was perfect inside him, I bet it was beautiful and warm, I bet his tongue would take good care of my body, suck my need out of me.. sate my hunger for him. _

My grip tightened on his dark locks and I my hips lurched forward instinctively at the very thought.

The look of horror on Kurt's face only made it sweeter as he feverishly tried to stand up. I gripped his harder and shoved him down, pushing on his head with the palms of my hands. Holding him there, a delicious perfect fantasy…

_Finally… he was connecting the dots._

"Dave..." I'd never heard such panic in his voice, undeniable terror, real and consuming. His hands reached up and tried to pull mine off, his feet skidding on the smooth hall flooring.

I couldn't deny the smile that crept across my face, or the sensations it sent coursing through my body. Deep down… inside. Where it burned at my center. And he, he had a face full of those glorious sensations, and they made him flail at my knees. I shifted my hips closer to him, nice and lazily, pushing forward, keeping him from turning his face away. God... he was struggling now, trying to jerk his head out of my grip. "What's the matter, Hummel? Don't you like that? I bet you want that... yeah… you wanna suck that dick, don't you?"

"Kurt?" His Glee coach called his name from somewhere around the bend of the hall.

I let go and drew back, giving his hair a hard tug as I did so. His chin dipped forward and he panted for breath. Relief and horror mingling together on his deliciously pretty face. "Don't you tell, fag. Or I'll show you what little cunts do for their men."

The soprano was too stricken to wipe the tears from his pale face, too out of breath, to do anything more than stare after me as I turned, as I strode away down that long empty expanse of hall and turned a corner.

I was a tease… but then, he was a bitch.

I glanced back, taking in that cute little boy, shaking against the locker as he clambered to his feet, his hands pressing to his belly, holding in that shame, looking as though he were going to vomit all over the clean white tile.

_Ohhh Kurt... please do. I'd watch how much you ached as you spilled that flamboyant pride all over the school hall, as it was replaced by humiliation... fear... and me. I'll fill you up you sweet little bitch. Hot. Warm. and White._

I'm not sure what he told his Glee coach, what he said to make the man believe he was alright. That nothing happened. That I was never there. Hummel lied very well. Hummel lied because he is a whore and he's too embarrassed to say I shoved my dick in his face.

Victims don't tell people, not really, not fully, and I don't understand why.

I'm not the victim.

If Kurt wanted to, the boy could have told someone, he could have gotten me suspended. AGAIN. But he didn't.

Cause he's a little bitch, his tail all tucked up between his smooth little thighs and he endured the fear, in his own pitiful way and never said a word.

Maybe he thought he deserved it. That if Dalton and that Blaine kid didn't want him. This was what he deserved. He did deserve it. But not because of Dalton, because he had a cunt mouth, and a bitchface and he's a faggot. That's why.

_He asked for it too. In the few minutes before it happened. It was sick how he practically begged for it._

I thrummed my thumbs on the warn vinyl wheel of my car, felt a bead of nervous sweat roll down my temple. My heart pounded against my ribs.

_Please, oh please, Kurt... come to me. I need you so bad. _

I watched the doors to the high-school. That night, he had stayed late with his Glee club, surrounded himself with noisy uncaring friends… anything to make him forget what I had done to him, but he had to face it soon, because one by one they all left, till it was just him… him and that teacher of his... but Kurt's too ashamed to tell.

Inside, the two are were entrapped in some silent plea for communication. _'Walk out with me.'_ Kurt wanted to ask. _'Please tell me what's wrong'_ his teacher begged without words, but neither said a thing.

There was an exchange of awkward smiles and 'goodnights' that lingered in the air and grew stale after seconds of exposure.

Kurt hesitated in the hall, longing to turn around, run back to his Glee teacher, run back to the warmth of another human being, but his legs wouldn't work. His pride is killing him. He paused by the doors, and wrapped his turquoise jacket around his slender body.

He's mine. He knew he was mine. As he pushed open those glass doors and hurried out into the cold night he gave himself to me, throwing himself at my feet. I can sleep well, at last. I can sleep, after dreamless nights of anxious desire. I'm justified because he almost killed me, because he made me like this, he made me sick. He made me gay. He made me like him.

Here. Tonight. In this fucking parking lot, I'm going to take everything from him… and I'm gonna make him… just like me.


	2. Boys aren't Taught

**(SORRY this took me so long. Ugh. College ate my life. I kept working on it bit by bit, and then I would just fall asleep in the middle of it, out of exhaustion. Anyway. I know I am taking my sweet time to get to the rape scene. But I don't like to rush things. Next chapter is violent and cruel so... be prepared. Reviews are fuel to me. So I would greatly appreciate them. Karofsky is like... a sociopathic fiend. I know. Poor little Kurt. Nawww hahahahahahahahahahah I'm evil. Ima rape his ass. I'm a sadist in the worst sense, yes I am.)**

**[Warning: Rated M for cursing, homophobic language, rape themes, and sexual sadism.]**

Boys aren't taught the safety precautions that girls are. They aren't taught to travel in tight packs, they don't keep spray cans of mace in their bags, and they don't park under lights. Nobody ever sat down with them to explain the gravity of sexual assault. There are no real rape emergency help-lines for men. And only a few if any support groups for male sex crime victims. Its common, unspoken, knowledge that rape doesn't, can't, or won't happen to men, and that when it does… nobody can ever talk about it.

I was grateful for the way society made this so easy for me. The way it guaranteed that Kurt's father never told his fragile son that he looked like a goddamn, fucking beautiful, little bitch in a poor semblance of masculine exterior, and by that same token never mentioned to him that men, hell, even straight men would want his ass. Small hands, thin build, masculine curves, girly voice. I was definitely straight, bi-curious at the very worst. Wanting Kurt was like wanting a transfag, that third unspecific gender between male and female. It isn't as though I have looked at other men in the way I look at little Kurt. No one turns me on quite like he does…

Here in the darkness, the stillness, the stale air of my SUV, the anticipation was slowly eating away at me, every step the soprano took was like four life-times during which I could not have him. I stopped tapping my thumb on the wheel. Stopped breathing all together. Oxygen couldn't sustain me anymore.

Kurt picked up his pace in the parking lot, his long turquoise, feminine military coat wrapped around his slender frame. He was so… small, in all that darkness, a tiny figure against the overwhelming black of the night, hurrying under the dim lights to a car that wasn't there. Kurt, a sweet and soft Dorian Gray boyhood that seemed so untouchable.

The boy began to slow, nearing his empty car space. I could read his face through my windshield. A twinge of confusion touched his already flustered expression.

Something I've learned too well in my short life is this: _that you can get anything you want in this entire world if you have enough money to pay for it._ It might take a bit of leg-work, some digging around, hell, you might even spend years looking for someone who will get that job done, but sooner or later someone's bound to go broke, and someone is bound to need what you offer. _Someone._ Someone is a damn funny guy, he goes by a lot of names and PMS's like a real bitch. But when I pulled out 60 dollars in the boy's locker room and offered it to the first person to get me Hummel's car keys before lunch. Well, 'someone' showed up.

People will stoop to anything if you offer them the paper in your wallet. I think a few of them might have hesitated if Hummel hadn't been the victim, but more than a few of the boys jumped at the opportunity to pull one on the little faggot. None of them felt sorry for him. After all, why would they? The princess had his nose in there air half the time, giving all the straight boys the cold shoulder as if WE were the ones fucked up, and not him.

Panic began to filter through Kurt's refined exterior. He clutched his satchel to his shoulder tightly turning on the spot. He was so damn cute, the way the color drained from his face, and his accelerated breaths fogged the chill air in furious puffs.

Of course, Kurt. What did you think I was? Stupid? I wouldn't leave your car out in a school parking lot where it could get reported by someone from security, or one of your teachers. No. It's sitting in a back lot at the nearest grocery store. Somewhere they will never look.

It was only another few seconds before the smaller boy fumbled his keys out of the front pocket of his bag, hitting the electronic lock furiously. Obviously hoping for the familiar chirp and flash of headlights in the dark lot, but none came.

I cast a quick glance at my open car door. I'd left it cracked to ensure I didn't make any sound when stepping out of it.

Come one, sweetheart.

Then, just as I hoped he would, little Hummel approached the cluster of cars where mine was parked. Human nature you see. You start looking for something somewhere you know it couldn't possibly be because somehow, you think that if you just look hard enough, it will show up.

"No… no… no…" I could hear his voice now, and ducked as he passed the driver's side door to my SUV. As he slid between my car and the one beside mine, as he raised a hand to his forehead, pushing his dark brunette hair from his face. "Please, god no…" Hummel doesn't believe in God, neither do I. We have that in common, and even if he did believe in God, some story-book deity wasn't about to help him now.

"Dammit." He breathed.

He turned his back to the door, one trembling hand resting on the other SUV, seeking balance, an anchor in the dark.

That… is when I jumped him.

Everything moved like a dream in those seconds. My body didn't even feel like mine, but like someone else's, something I wasn't fully in control of. The soprano didn't even have time to turn, before my hand clamped over his mouth, and I forced his suddenly flailing body to mine. He was too shocked to scream, struggling in my arms furiously. I had expected this and I turned shoving his chest up against my car. He squealed into the palm of my hand and only kicked more ferociously, his shoes beating against my car door.

"Hummel…. Shhh shhh shhh…" I cooed as he struggled. "You want to make this worse for yourself? Hmmm?"

Kurt stopped struggling, breathing in panicked whimpers, hanging limp in my arms. I felt the warmth of his tears roll over the hand I still had clamped to his mouth. He was crying now, because I think he came to the conclusion of what I intended to do to him, before I even said a word.

"It's alright, little fag. I'll take good care of you. Real good care of you…" I leaned in, dipped my face to the crook of his neck. Felt him shiver. Oh god, I'd never been so close to him. I wanted to devour him, swallow him whole. "Goddamn am I gonna fuck you..."

A groan of horror shuttered through his body and he leaned his head back, gripping the side of my car, and sobbing into my hand. I kept him pressed there, untangling one arm from around him. He didn't move though, didn't struggle. The initial panic had subsided into shock. Shock at the realization of what I was about to do to him. What a virgin. He was frozen. He removed my hand, and he didn't make a sound. His breath fogging the window of my car. He sounded as though he were hyperventilating, his blue eyes half closed. The boy was struggling not to faint.

I pulled open the back door to my SUV, and forced him toward it. He was like a rag doll in my arms, he flopped forward. Not quite fighting. His feet firmly planted on the asphalt, his fingers clenching on the back of the folded down seats, a last half conscious effort to keep himself from being thrown inside the car.

"God… Karofsky…" He whined, pathetically, "Y-you… c-c-cant… do this…"

He was bent over, in front of me… ohhh that position. I slid my hands down his back to his waist… even through his long jacket I could feel his breathing speed up.

"Oh Hummel. You don't know me at all do you?"

I took this opportunity to reach into his pocket and pull out his cell phone, chucking it under the wheel of the car next to mine. Like most male victims in a situation like this… Kurt couldn't react. His fight and flight response had morphed into something that rendered him only half aware. He was trying to keep himself from throwing up... or passing out, or both...

"Please… don't…"

I pulled him up by the waist and shoved him into the back of my car. Clambering in after him, slamming the door behind me. He rolled over, kicking away from me, but I pulled him by his leg, dragging him back.

"NO!" his adrenaline threatened to kick in again. As if he could fight me. He was so small. I crawled on top of him, all my weight pinning him down. I watched the color drain from his face as it went whiter than it had ever been, he choked on his tears.

"What's the matter, fag? You can't handle a man?" I sank into a straddle position sitting on his chest, his breath was squeezed from his lungs, as I felt his ribcage compress under me, Kurt's eyes widened and his gasping became hoarse wheezing.

Boys aren't taught what to do in this kind of situation, they aren't threatened with fairy tales and news reports of rape. Hummel walked around with his head held high like nothing in the world could ever touch him. Someone should have told him. Taught him. Now it was left to me.

"I'll do anything Karofsky… anything, just let me go… please, my dad…" he swallowed, his breath hitched painfully as I shifted my weight on his chest. "Ughh… Finn, I… their waiting for me back home… I'll do anything… please." He tried to wriggle out from under me, pushing his hands against my knees.

"Yes you will, Hummel…" I smiled down at the boy… my god, I needed him. I needed him so badly it hurt, feeling his body struggle under me. God damn. I grabbed his head under his jaw, my fingers digging into the hollows of his cheeks, forcing his head still, forcing him to look me in the eye.

"Believe me… you will." With my free hand I reached down between us and began to unzip the front of my jeans.


	3. Taken By Force

**(Alright. So this is an early treat for people who subscribed to this story, and to other readers. Yes you. The people who don't dare review this story because that would mean you would have to admit you READ it. Let me tell you. I got SOOOO much traffic on this story its actually kinda screwed up how many people read it. They can run, but they can't hide. Anyway. Because I got so much traffic and a semi-decent amount of reviews I decided to punch out the next chapter for you all. The more reviews the sooner you get another one!)**

**[WARNING: Do not proceed if you are sensitive to physical abuse, or sexual abuse. This is NOT a scene comparable to normal smut. This is cruel, and this is sickening. If you can't handle it, I IMPLORE YOU NOT to read this.]**

**[Rated M for: homophobic insults, strong language, violence, sexual abuse, and nonconsensual rape.]**

Life is drugs, and violence, and sex… and god be damned, don't you get in the way. Everyone is beaten, and bruised, and molested… everyone. Each of us has a limit as to just how much misery we can bear… an exact number of individual pieces of straw before our backs break.

There are the people who grit their teeth and, legs tremoring, press onwards. Not me. I'm the kind of human being who to takes the hurt in my life, pours the kerosene, and sets someone else on fire instead. If you screw someone up, if you make sure they are just as fucked up as you, then you don't feel so alone in all your disgusting agony.

Kurt had taken a lot of bricks to the face in his short lifetime. Maybe that is why he was always so fragile. His emotional strength never quite healed over, it remained raw and bleeding. It must have been rough, being a faggot, but that choice proved his masochism to me, and his deep seated desire to be used.

I imagine him some nights, in his bed, curled into a fetal position. No one to save him from that infinite fear, locked in the prison that I've built for him. No counselor in the world will ever be able help him, not after this, not after me.

I imagine being the one to peel him open, unfold him, and force him to face my desires. I longed to watch the terror in his eyes, to take his boyish innocence, and burn it, burn it with my humanity, and leave nothing but my perverted obsession with him. I want to make him loath romantic love. I want to be the one he thinks about when someone touches him, the reason he shrinks away. I want to be the person standing between him and every other boy in the world. I want to be the glass ceiling he can never break. When he thinks about sex, I want him to feel sick to his stomach. But most of all, I want Kurt Hummel to never, ever feel safe. I will strip the hopes from him tonight, make him mine. Make myself the only thing he can think of… something he can never tell.

Goddamn. _Hold still, Kurt._ He was squirming, pushing against my chest, against my legs. His palms against my knees, fingers splayed on the dark denim of my jeans. Pushing, wincing against the painful hold I had on his jaw. He wasn't begging right now, he was trying to fight for his dignity. He was going to lose. I think he knew it. But it didn't stop him trying to escape, no matter how feeble the attempts.

I tugged my jeans down, just enough to free myself from their constraints. The more he tried to resist, the more it turned me on. There was no measure to how deep the pit of my hunger ran. I felt as though rape wouldn't possibly be enough to sate me. It was like I needed to consume him, him in all his delicacy, in all his beautiful youth. I pulled my weight forward, crawling further up his small body, pinning his arms down with my knees. I felt his tendons grind under the pressure. He would bruise the next day, black marks of my being there.

Kurt's eyes watered at the pain. His fingers curled weakly.

"Open up…" I demanded, clenching my grip on his jaw.

He squeezed his eyes closed, keeping his lips pressed shut, turning his face away. I turned it forcefully back.

"Open up, Kurt, you worthless piece of shit." I gave his head a shake, grinding my fingers into his cheeks, painfully. A small cry escaped his throat, but he held it in, too terrified to let it free, too scared to breath. His blue eyes opened to meet mine, and they were welled with fresh tears, holding all the heartbreak of a Shakespearian tragedy. Those beautiful, celestial blue eyes begged me, what his mouth dare not.

Something churned in the pit of my stomach and sent pleasure coursing down the length of my spine. I was suddenly breathing like I'd just run a mile, like the air in my SUV had thinned, and the only thing I could inhale was him. I wanted to claw his chest open. Stamp out his life in one ravenous feast. _Fuck_.

"Open your pretty, little mouth, right now, or so help you god, I will beat your fag face till your daddy won't even know who you are…" I pulled down my boxers, slowly, just enough, unable to bite back a groan.

The boy's face went slack with horror and any color left in it drained as his gaze darted downwards. He tried to wrench his head out of my hold, kicking feebly, trying to push himself away from me. His shoes only slid against the rough seat backing beneath him. He was such a little liar, a little lying faggot. He wanted dick. That's what his throat was made for. That was the kind of person he was. A fucking homo. This was the best of what he deserved.

My weight squeezed out his breaths, constricting his ribs till he was squinting, trying to focus, trying to hold on to consciousness. He was so cute when he looked so sick.

"Fight all you want…"

I bent, forcefully lifting his head to kiss him on the mouth. It was a rough, probing kiss, one that made his fingers curl again. I could feel how much he hated me, how sickened he was. It made it that much sweeter when I ground my knees into his arms, and he gasped, just what I wanted him to do. His mouth opened against mine, inhaling sharply. I pushed in my tongue, up against his, as his lungs wheezed for repressed air.

"Ughhnnn" He tried to pull back, as I explored him, like a rapist might, insistently, forcefully. I lifted myself onto all fours, breaking from the kiss, and before he could register what was happening, I tangled my fingers into his beautiful brunette locks, and forced his head downwards.

"No! Wait! Please, Dave…" Kurt cried.

"Shut up."

I took advantage of his begging and shoved my shaft into his open mouth, before he could shut it to me.

"_Ohhh… fuck_…" He was so warm. A shudder of glorious pleasure washed over me, blinding me, and for a few seconds, I thought I was going to pass out from the relief, from the overwhelming satisfaction of finally pushing into his goddamn, fucking beautiful mouth. "_Oh my god_…" a moan broke free of my throat and I slumped forward against the seats, holding his head so he couldn't pull away. "Oh my god…"

He was frozen beneath me, his fingers clenching into fists, his knuckles white, and I could feel him quiver. He was frightened, he couldn't move, lapsing into that dazed horror.

I reached down and gave his face a rough slap. "Suck me, you fucking bitch."

A redness blossomed against his pale porcelain skin, a tribute to where I had hit him.

He tensed, and whimpered. A soft gurgle sounded at the back of his throat, before he attempted to reciprocate, gingerly, his body trembling. _Damn… yes_. I gave my hips a harsh thrust, and he made a small stifled sound of discomfort. He was probably praying with every fraction of his being that this would be over soon.

"Ohhh yes…. _good boy_…" I breathed, and pressed my forehead to the rough fabric of the folded down seats, savoring this feeling. Complete victory. Complete control.

This would never have worked any other way, I would have never wanted it any other way. He had to be forced against his will or the thrill would have been gone. Love wasn't a part of my physiology, what I wanted couldn't be bought with soft touches and assenting acts of lust. I realized that, as I groaned, and ground my hips against him, forcing myself deeper down his hot throat. A consensual act… would never be enough. _Fuck._ If there was a hell, I was going there. And I didn't give a shit.

"More… ohhh… god, Hummel… Mmnnn…" I felt him choke, as I raised my chest off the seats and leaned back, my grip clenching and unclenching on his hair, closing my eyes.

Kurt was breaking, slowly. Like glass shattering under stress. He whimpered, and I felt another wave of pleasure. _Goddamn_. I bit my lip at his faint sounds of protest, they made me roll my hips, start to rock them. _Ohhh… fuck… yes. Fuck yes_. His throat convulsed with a gag as I pushed in too deep.

"Ohhh shit, almost there, Hummel. SUCK, goddammit."

He choked, and sucked harder, as I delivered him another slap to the face. I should have felt ashamed, I should have felt terrible. The boy had never done anything to me that would have warranted this. But it was far too late to feel sorry, too late to take this back, and his innocence was glorious.

I thrusted harder, deeper, faster, forcing his face closer. I was probably suffocating him, but I couldn't care less. He was a tool to my means, the obsession that had haunted my evenings. I didn't care if I killed him to get what I needed. The walls of remaining inhibitions fell down around me and there was only the blackness of my need, the desire of its conclusion.

I looked down at the boy, his eyes shut against the degrading shame I was forcing on him, his legs, bent and unbent, shoes skidding on the surface beneath us. I didn't slow my rhythm, even when his breath trembled from lack of oxygen, from hyperventilating, from crying so hard he blocked his own airways. I didn't give him a space of time to breathe.

"You deserve this…" I said in a lustful rasp. _Shit,_ I was close. "I hope you fucking die. I gave you a chance to love me, Kurt. But… you're… ugh… so… much… better… ughhh goddam fuck… than me…"

The boy's strained wheezing gargled to a halt. It took a few seconds for me to realize he had finally given in to fainting, and dipped into momentary unconsciousness. _Shit_. I withdrew from his mouth just slightly, setting his head back. How inconvenient.

"Hummel." I gave his hair a sharp tug. "Wake up, princess." I hit his face with a back slap.

His eyelids fluttered open again, dazedly, taking that moment to gasp air into his deprived lungs. But I didn't give him more than a second's break, lifting his head to finish. I forced his mouth back open and gave an extra hard ram to the back of his throat. He coughed and I felt his body convulse in a retch. _Mmmnnn god… yes._

"Good boy…" I stroked his face, in as loving and as sweet manner as I could possibly muster. "That's right… stay with me…"

I tilted my head back, my hips jarring forward, and I groaned as I spilled all my lust for him into his warm, boyishly, soft mouth.

Satisfaction over took me… and my knees slipped off his arms. Kurt gagged when I pulled out, gargling for air against my fluid, my ejaculate spilling down, from the corners of his mouth. I was so sick. And he was so damn beautiful. His back arched under me as he tried to choke it up. But I was a fucking cruel bastard and I pressed a hand to his mouth. Forcing him to hold it in. Rolling him over on his belly.

His body bucked with another attempt to heave. His thin hands clutched the backing of the seats, clenching.

He was on the verge of throwing up, like he was trying to squeeze up all the grief and shame that churned in the pit of his stomach. _  
_

"Swallow, Kurt…"

He groaned against my palm.

"Swallow… come on…" I ran a hand up and down his smooth warm neck, gently, coaxingly, but with all the poison of what I had just done to him… "Come on, baby…"

The boy's eyes squeezed shut, and he swallowed painfully, letting out a soft whimper as he did so. Satisfied, I let go of him, and his cheek hit the rough flooring beneath us. He didn't move to push me off anymore, he just lay there… gasping for air, trying to fill his bruised lungs. Tasting me. A taste he would never be able to wash away. His whole body trembling, silent tears drying on his cheeks. And I knew, watching him shake there, pale, and sickened…that I hated him, I hated him almost as much as I hated myself.

**(NO. This is not the end of the story. Dave is not finished with Kurt. bwahahah I did warn you that it was cruel. This isn't sexy smut, this is cruel smut. Someone in a recent review told me I wrote from a sociopaths point of view worryingly well. I'm a pretty perverted guy. A damn right bastard, and this was quite easy for me to write… if you know what I mean. I hope you all were sickly fascinated enough by it. Peace out. Keep the reviews coming, I appreciate it.)**


	4. Dirty, Just Like Me

**(College ate my life. Which is why it took me so long to post this, but I got SOOO much traffic on my last chapter, it was ridiculous. No. I mean. It was ridiculous. The views were astronomical. You guys gave me a fanbase I had never hoped to gain. And in the sickest way possible, I love you all. I had 'some fun' writing this. Hope you enjoy reading it.)**

**{To anyone reading this in the first hours it's up, I apologize for errors. I will be fixing them over the next day}  
**

**[Rated M for: Sexual themes, nonconsensual rape, strong language, homophobic insults, molestation, sodomy, and sadistic themes]**

**WARNING: (Though I believe this chapter to be milder in nature to the previous one, the next chapter WILL NOT BE. Never the less, if you are sensitive to molestation and rape, PLEASE don't read this, and PLEASE don't review it. I don't need to hear how you think it's too rough or unnecessary.)**

I'd once seen a dead bird when I was a young boy. Its wings spread out against the black tar of our driveway, its beak half-open as if it had died in mid breath. It was so beautiful and tragic. This tiny creature that had once been seemingly eternal had fallen from heaven and become mortal, like everything else. To this day I still remember the color of its feathers. They were the kind of blue that my gun metal skies could never be, the kind of blue you think the oceans are before you see them, a blue like no other. I don't know what made me do it, but I raised the heel of my sneaker and lowered my foot onto its head, pressing down on it till I had felt its bones snap and cave inwards, and I ground it into the tar. It was filthy now, like everything else on the earth.

"I fucking hate you, you little worthless slut." I was grinding my shoe into that bird's guts, mercilessly, destroying it, and smearing Kurt's last remaining shreds of dignity with depreciating loathing.

Somewhere, in the cold darkness outside, beyond the fogged windows of my SUV, I heard the sound of approaching footsteps. My heart fluttered up into my throat, and my blood froze in my hot veins. A faint whistling permeated the chilled silence and stilled my taunts. _A show tune, a faggy show tune._ _Kurt's Glee coach?_ I glanced at the boy quickly and Kurt's gaze shifted to me, I could see the cerulean of his gaze caught in the dim light of the flickering lot lamp several spaces from my vehicle. A car door opened then slammed shut, but Kurt didn't move, he didn't shout, he didn't kick or fight, he did nothing, nothing to help himself. The little soprano just laid there, his chest pressed to the folded down seats of my car. The back of his brilliantly turquoise coat rose and fell in rapid, erratic, succession, and each breath he took quivered, shook, and trembled in his lungs like a dying song bird.

There was a small pop as Kurt's cell phone was pulled under the car beside mine, followed by the crunching of wheels turning over gravel, salt, and half melted snow. I lifted my head, just barely, to look over the ridge of the back windows, watching the tail lights of the silver sedan pull out onto the main road. _That had been a close call._ All prissy-bitch-face had to have done was scream, but he hadn't. He hadn't done a thing.

My attention fell to Kurt's broken form, the remnants of my liquid pleasure still wet against his pale cheek. My teeth ground together with both satisfaction and hatred.

"I hope that hurt…" I reached down and gripped his dark hair in my fist giving his head another violent shake. "I hope your throat is so sore it bleeds, cause, I'll fuck it again, till you scream, I swear to god." His eyes squeezed shut against my torment, and he didn't say a word as I let him go. He only lifted an unsteady hand to wipe his mouth, slowly, trying to wipe away that sticky sweetness, _my_ sticky sweetness. His lips parted and he grimaced at the taste that was still so potent against his warm, soft, tongue. His throat, that marble temple in which that beautiful voice of his resided, had been tainted and it had felt so damn good… I already missed it.

"Just do it, Dave…" He croaked, hoarse from the abuse he had suffered. "Just _kill _me… I know you want to…" it was astonishing how lifeless the boy could sound, how all the melody in his words could go out. He gave a tiny strangled sob, which he pushed back, trying to wipe my fluid off his cheek now.

Oh Kurt. _My_ Kurt. My sweet little sex slave, my trembling victim, my easy prey. I searched myself, I actually looked, but I found no pity for the faggot. I only found a smile surfacing across my face. _I was such a bastard. _I lowered myself down on top of him, breathing a soft sigh as my body pressed against his significantly smaller one. He drew a rattling breath and his eyes rolled up like some terrified animal. Hummel was such a sweet little delicacy. I propped myself up on my elbows, staring down into the part of his face that I could see, watching a single escaped tear trail down from the corner of his eye, to the ridge of his nose.

"Shhh… shhh… shhhh, Hummel, I don't want you dead, sweetheart." I pressed a hand to his forehead, my rough palm against the delicate architecture of his face, he breathed faster as I brushed back his dark hair from his eyes. It was soaked with perspiration and a slight spattering of white from my spurting release into him. His body tried to curl under mine in an instinctual need to protect itself and he groaned softly as I ran my fingers through his brunette locks, not a pleasant groan, but one that told me he knew his torture wasn't over. I was gentle… gentle… gentle. Like a python circling around its prey, tightening its hold, slowly, tenderly, squeezing it to death. There was nothing quite like the feeling of his body pinned, immobile, under me, knowing he loathed me so much, knowing what I had forced him to do and would gladly force him to do again…

I leaned to place a kiss to his temple and gratefully pushed my hips against his rear. I was such a bad boy, but I couldn't help but snort with laughter at his expression. He winced at this and turned his face a little more into the back of the seats, away from mine. "Oh god… I'm gonna be sick… oh god…"

His words flooded me with renewed, dizzying, pleasure, and I was starting to feel those familiar sensations below the waist again. My fingers tangled in his dark hair and I inhaled his boyish scent.

"Go on. Throw up, Hummel…" I wanted him to, there was nothing in that empty stomach of his but me and… I was so fucking screwed up; I wanted to see him spill. He let out a breathy whine and gripped the flooring again, beginning to struggle once more, it was a weak attempt to free himself from my weight.

"Where are you going? Hmm, Hummel…" I resumed stroking his soft locks, talking sweet to him because I could, because it made his skin crawl. "No place to go…" I reminded him in a whisper. Damn. This boy was like a fire under my skin, he made me lust after him in a way that shouldn't be possible, in the way that made the hate burst in my heart, and dissolve into want, and need.

His teeth ground together and he stopped squirming. "Not again…. Dave… no… please… please…" What a clever boy, he could probably feel my reaction to him, pressed against his shapely little ass. He needed to stop begging because the more he begged, the more pleasure coursed down my spine and the greedier I felt, like a kid in a candy shop. I wanted him all.

I began to work my fingers into the collar of his jacket, pulling it from his shoulders, starting to tug it off, and despite his protests, he didn't fight me. His body was limp under my touch. Or maybe he realized that resistance was a useless thing to attempt.

"You're afraid I'll cum in your mouth again?" I threw the jacket aside; and allowed my strong hands to run down his shoulder blades over his back, across his ribs, savoring the heat from his skin through his button down shirt. "Oh… but that is the sweetest part…" I worked my fingers over his hips, massaging slowly, savoring his almost feminine curves. Kurt's breathing hitched harshly. "…I'm going to make you swallow it… every… time…"

His bottom lip trembled, and his knuckles went white as he gripped the seat backing.

"Till you're sick…"

I insistently fondled of him. I had to touch him, I had to touch him everywhere. How could I burn the memory of my desire into his mind if he hadn't felt it… all over his tender body.

"Please… stop…" He whimpered softly.

I slid my hands over the back pockets of his jeans, before tracing them back up again, till my fingers crept under the edge of his shirt, and skimmed over the warm skin there. I inhaled sharply. The soft begging that left his perfect lips was almost a prayer.

"…please… no…"

"… please, yes…" I replied and lowered my touch toward his hips again, down, over his warm belly, reaching around to the front of his jeans, lifting his rear off the flooring and pulling his ass up and into me.

"Ughn." Kurt's mouth fell open and he clenched his fingers into tight fists as I ran my hand between his legs, as I began to grope him, leisurely, gently, and insistently.

There are several ways to absolutely ensure that victims don't open their pretty little mouths. Every rapist knows this, especially when the victim is someone you know well. Their bodies are beyond their control, no matter how sick you make them mentally, physically, their minds have become incongruent to the rest of them. Kurt was no exception. The boy was romantic, sweet, and tender, my molestation of him was nothing short of abhorrent to his mind, the taste of my hatred for him still fresh in his mouth. But no matter how strongly he loathed me, the human body was so easily influenced. This is what made rape so sweet. I was going to make Kurt Hummel feel filthy, I was going to drown him with self hatred. Was he enjoying it? His mind was screaming one thing, his body was reacting another, no, he couldn't have possibly enjoyed it, but he didn't know that. To him, all the horror and hatred, and shame was twisted up with unprecedented, disgusting arousal… and it was all his fault.

"No…" The shame bled from his trembling form, closing in on him like freight train. Panic burst behind his previously dull eyes, and he squirmed, trying to wrench out of my hold, but I only held tighter, working my fingers with infinite patience. "ahhhggnn…" he clawed the back of the seats frantically.

"What's the matter, Hummel?" I smirked as I stroked him just a little harder, his self-hatred fueling my own pleasure. He could feel it, no doubt, through his designer jeans. "Seems to me, you like this…" Not that in the heat of the moment it mattered... but his reaction seemed muted... he still felt soft to the touch, but... his body... it twitched beneath me.

He gasped furiously against the flooring with his effort to free himself. "Stop… stop… please… stop!" He cried, pitching quite a little bitch-fit, the more his body reacted to my touch, the more insistently he tried to get away. But he was under my control, poor helpless little Kurt, entirely mine.

He lowered his forehead to the back seats, breathless, sucking oxygen in as though he couldn't get enough. His struggles were weakening. "Ohh god… I'm going to throw up… I hate you, Dave… I hate you… I hate you…" he had stopped fighting, out of breath, realizing he couldn't get out from under me, panting desperately against the seats. His blue eyes dazed like a blind-sided dog. "… stop…" He had reached the point that as much as he wanted to fight his way out, his body wasn't letting him, it was sickening his heart.

"Don't lie, Hummel." I pushed my hips to his rear, and began to hump him, just for effect, so that he felt even dirtier, forced into the metronome of sex with me.

"no…" He whined as I rocked his small body with mine, fondling him and stroking him feverishly. He swallowed, unable to hold back his tears, his breathing coming in spurts, hitching, spurting, sobbing. "I hate you… ohh god… oh god…" he closed his eyes and clutched the seat backing hard, as though he were in excruciating pain, and his own hips gave a spasm, thrusting against my touch, out of his control. Still curiously soft...

"That's right. Just like that. You fucking, little faggot." I leaned forward to breathe that against his neck as his back arched into my chest at my manipulative touch.

"Ughnnn." The boy, shivered and slumped onto the seats, and I released my hold on him.

His face was devoid of living color, his sweat soaked hair clinging to his forehead. As I watched him, his tears broke, streaming down from his diming eyes, cresting over his cheeks, not tears of pain anymore, but of pure and absolute horror, of disgust. His bruised arms bent weakly and his hands moved to cover his face. "no… no… no…" There was hysteria in his voice. "No! NO!" he groaned into his shaking hands, his whole body tremoring with quaking sobs, curling under me, into a fetal position. If I had thought he was broken before, it was nothing compared to now. Kurt's weeping gasps were frantic, mindless "Kill me! Just kill me! PLEASE!" He begged, almost screamed, into the stale air of my car.

Little Kurt Hummel would never say a word. _Never._ He would shrink from the touch of any other boy, feel me, first. _Always._ This thought churned in the pit of my stomach and settled there like a black fungus as I watched him cry. In his mind… he enjoyed what I had done, no matter how he fought, or begged, or bargained. In the end he will only remember the feeling of release, and in his panic stricken anguish he will have wanted everything I had forced on him.

"Please!"

"I'm going to drive you to your car, Hummel."

"KILL me!" He pleaded.

"You're going to drive home, and when you get there you are going to tell them your car had problems starting, and you broke your cell phone earlier today."

"Just end it, please, Dave, please!" He moaned, and curled into an even tighter ball, hugging his knees to his chest, clamping himself up, so I couldn't touch him anymore.

"And when they ask about the bruises, you'll tell them you got into a fight outside of school… and you'll be okay, won't you, Kurt?" I remained straddling him. "Because I'm going to need you again, s_ometime, real soon_. So do what you like, screw yourself over, don't eat, don't sleep, go half-way mad, I don't give a fuck, I just want you alive for it."

"… I wish you would…" He breathed, his sweet youthful face tragic, pathetic, tortured, and for half of a moment I think part of me might have felt sorry for him. Just for a second, split second. But he was that blue bird, fallen to earth, where it belonged, no longer untouchable, and no longer beautiful.

I ignored his half conscious words. "You're going to save yourself for me, aren't you Kurt? All for me. Only for me, from now on."

I reached down to his face, digging my rough fingers into his cheeks, lifting his head off the seat backing, bending so our faces were even. His blue eyes rolled up from my gaze as he tried to look away, but I held him still, forced him steady.

"I still have a situation to take care of, Kurt, honey…" I smirked and tilted my head down at myself to emphasize my point. He didn't look, couldn't. He could feel my frustration against his thigh, knew I needed to be sated, wouldn't stop until I was."And we can proceed several ways here." I could hear my own voice. Even. Calm. Nothing if not cold.

"I can screw your ass, and take the last bit of virginity you have left. Here. Today. Or, I can let you keep that for a little while longer and you can finish me off…" I licked my lips at the mere thought of his. "…with that already violated mouth of yours." My grip convulsively tightened on him, painfully.

His thin body uncoiled, his hands reaching up to take hold of my wrists, like some pleading creature, not even human anymore, not to me. Whimpering, his eyes; glassy with tears, his frame; wracked with anguish.

"Your choice, Hummel."** LOL.]**


	5. Making Hatred, Like Love

**[I know some people don't like my author's notes, well. Too bad. I want to apologize to my faithful readers. I took SO long to update this, I think it's been a month, it feels like three. College is trying to swallow me whole, so please forgive me. I adore you all, and feel just awful for making you wait. love you all. THANK YOU, please keep reading. I have you to thank for the MAD-ass traffic on this story. Please review, if you aren't too creeped out.)**

**(UPDATE 5/15/2011))) ( I know a lot of people keep returning to see if I have updated. I just finished school this week and am currently editing the last bit of the next installment. I hope to have it up by tomorrow! Hang in there. I love you all)  
**

_**[Rated M for serious physical abuse, brutal rape, sadistic themes, and homophobia]**_

_**Warning: [Graphic content, stronger than the previous chapters. Please don't read if you are sensitive.]**_

Black holes were opening behind Kurt's pale blue eyes as I forced them to keep contact with mine, black holes that drew in the last vestiges of the dim light still remaining in his beautiful, feminine face. I could see the darkness spinning at the center of his being, pulling in his heart, his lungs, and his entire body. I've never, in all my life, wanted to kill someone as much as I wanted to kill Kurt Hummel, right then. There was something in his broken expression, in his tearing, pained gaze that mirrored and reflected my face back at me, refracting all the vile rot of my soul.

It was as though he were the immortal youth standing in the tragic shadow of a portrait so contemptible it was no longer a portrait at all, as though I had become little else than the despicable evil of the world splattered onto a canvas. Why did I have to carry this? Why couldn't I stay beautiful forever? Why couldn't he rot in depraved desires that ate their way out of his brain and wormed a hole outward, seeking air and metamorphosis?

"It's a hard choice for you, isn't it, Fairy?"

The frustration was almost sickening inside me, it felt so undeniably good, but so undeniably nauseating, like drowning yourself in the dizzying dredges of alcohol. The boy beneath me was numb with self disgust; his eyes met mine, but looked right through me into the nothingness that lived behind my cruel actions. All that empty space filled with just him and the hunger I felt for his submission. His hold on my wrists was gentle; there was nothing in it of the brutality I had shown him.

"You have ten seconds." My words seemed to call him back to the moment; there was vague horror when he focused on my black eyes.

"Don't…"

"_Don't_ is not an answer."

I knew the soprano wouldn't be able to respond. Somewhere before the words reached his throat they would dissipate, become the panicked breath that shivered across his tongue and out into the humid air of my SUV. I let go of his jaw slowly, and pushed his head back against the black backing of the seats. It must have been uncomfortable, all the uneven flooring pressing against his ribs, the metal bars under his spine, and the hard seams digging into his shoulder blades. Imagining the pain he must have felt only aroused my insatiable body.

I cupped his face in my large hands. He was so small, swallowed up by me, by my hands, by all my voracity. My rough thumbs ran over his cheek bones, traced the delicate structure of them, and wiped away the fresh tears still wet against his pale skin. "Am I going to have to choose for you?" My attention dropped from his eyes as his bottom lip trembled again and, savoring every second, I lowered my fingers to his mouth. His perfect mouth.

I had heard him singing once, last year, by himself in the choir room. The sound had resonated out into the crowded hall and everyone else, they had just walked by. They had walked by like an angel hadn't stepped down from heaven and delivered the clearest note of music known to man. At first, I had thought it was a girl, one of the Glee girls, but none of them sang that well, and Rachel Berry… that ugly-ass, snot nosed, brunette Barbie, could not have sounded so unbelievably pure. I had looked in, if only for a moment and had seen little Kurt Hummel beside the piano, all by himself in that choir room. It wasn't the sound he made anymore, or the fact that he was alone. It was how girly that little fag-ass was, how fucking nauseatingly girly. And for the first time, watching that little homo sing… I knew. I knew I wanted that mouth all for my own in the most inexplicable, repulsive, disgusting way imaginable.

His breath was hot against my fingertips. How could he do nothing? He lay there under me, shaking, _not_ fighting. How could anyone just lay there and let someone take advantage of _them_ to the extent that I was about to take advantage of_ him_? What a weak little fag, a girl would have fought harder…

"You've done it once. You can do it again. Can't you, Hummel?" I traced his lips slowly, counting the seconds. "You can open up your _warm_, succulent, mouth. _Work_ that soft _sweet_ tongue of yours, and _suck_ like a _good_ boy. Swallow everything I pour in… gratefully… appreciatively…" I pronounced my words with clear deliberation.

He made the cutest sound at the back of his throat, no doubt his stomach churned in nauseating squeezes as I reminded him that I had been inside, was still inside, _white and hot_, the only thing left in that empty stomach of his.

"Please, Dave…" Kurt forced the sentence out of his lungs, muffled against my touch.

I wouldn't stop. I couldn't stop. My need was unrelenting; it coursed between my legs and made me weak to my own needs. He was a delectable temptation. _Nothing more._

I parted his lips softly with my fingers, "Mmnf…" he writhed with distaste as I worked inside. "You're such a faggot, Hummel. You strut around, like you're some queen bitch. Like everyone should be like you. Queer as shit." His mouth was so luscious, delicious, and all mine. _Entirely mine_. I pushed my fingers against his supple tongue, it slipped from my touch and Kurt strained the deeper I pushed in. _Ugh... god. Fuck._ I wanted to be inside again. I lowered my face closer to his, close enough to see his eyes water as he gagged pathetically.

"You don't seem to understand, you don't seem to comprehend yet, that nobody wants your ladyboy-ass parading around. You belong on a street corner, selling yourself out to some bi-curious fag-fucker." I drew my fingers from his mouth bit by bit. The boy groaned and rolled his tongue in revulsion. "Dave, no, don't make me… please…" he shook his head just barely, pleadingly. He was only partially taking in my words, maybe, not at all.

My patience was wearing thin, I mocked checking my watch. "Time's up, Hummel. I still don't have an answer, guess I'll choose for you..."

I knew how to manipulate little Kurt into giving me exactly what I wanted. I had already planted the idea so filthily in his mind. Now, all I needed to do was present him with a less desirable option and he would submit like a good, little, bitch.

I arched an eyebrow and ran my rough hand down and across his chest, rubbing softly as I went. You would have thought that it was almost loving, the way I stroked him and caressed him, circling back over his stomach. Kurt knew better, he squirmed uncomfortably as I reached the waist band of his jeans, writhed when I slid the tips of my fingers just barely underneath. _Ohh the control_. His shoes scraped on the seats. I smiled down at his panic-stricken face as his petrified gaze flicked from my hand to my eyes and I started to work the first button free.

"You know, it will mean _nothing_ to me. _Absolutely _nothing." I assured him in a gentle coo that didn't fit my words. "I'll screw into your virginity as easily as I screwed your hot little mouth and I will fuck you like the worthless animal you are…" I pulled the first button loose on his designer jeans and moved to the second.

"No!" his hand shot down to grab my wrist. "No. Please!"

I gave him a contented smile. He played into me so well. "Please what?" I tilted my head, continuing to pluck at the next button, spurring on his thoughts.

"Please…" his girly voice trembled with dread, it was pathetic the way his touch was so gentle, so pleading.

"Please… _WHAT_?" I prized his hold from my wrist with ease, gripping his small hand tightly in my fist, squeezing it painfully. "You should say it, Hummel, or I might get the wrong idea… after all, you have a cute little virgin ass that needs fucking…"

I continued to smile down at him, forcing his hand to my leg. He immediately attempted to tug back, but I just waited, patiently, until he stopped struggling, and resumed, tracing his feminine fingers up my inner thigh.

Kurt's face was contorted with disgust as he tried to wrench his hand furiously out of my grip, but too late. I forced it between my legs, making him touch me, watching the repulsion in his face morph into overwhelming queasiness.

"oh god…" the back of one of his wrists pressed over his mouth, shaking violently as I forced his other hand's fingers around my aching member, making him cradle it in his small grip.

"That's right, Hummel…say it. Tell me where you want that… tell me like a good faggot." Ohhh, how I reveled in his repulsion, straining his hand up and down on me in a single, slow pump.

His breath rattled in his throat, and he sobbed, starting to hyperventilate again.

"You want it in the ass, Hummel? I can do that."

"NO!" he gasped quickly as I moved to resume undoing his jeans. "No…. no, please… please, not that. Anything but that!" when I didn't stop, but in fact wrenched the next button loose he finally squeezed his eyes closed, tears running down his cheeks, and begged hysterically. "Please! Dave! In the mouth, I'll take it in the mouth! PLEASE!"

This was exactly what I wanted him to say. Why? Because. I was the kind of guy who believed it was no fun to eat the entire cake in one go. It was better to save a slice or two for a second helping, for an anticipated state of 'later'. I paused, looking up from the waistband of his pants to his tear stained, panicked face. He could hardly breathe through his stricken gasps. _How endearing… how touching_. I leaned over, tilting my head down at him.

"Please…" he said in a smaller voice, his eyes watering with warm tears. "I'll use my mouth… I'll use it… please… don't… don't…"

I let the silence draw out between us, closing Kurt's hand around me, massaging myself with his fingers, guiding them in a thrust as I exhaled against his face. He was terrified, his attention darted down at me and quickly flicked away, blinking back his torment.

"So I can expect some reciprocal servicing, Kurt, honey?" My face was centimeters from his, each breath I took fluttered against his pale cheek. His finger's twitched on me, and he no doubt fought the urge to pull his hand away. Not only was little Kurt an obvious physical virgin, but the boy also retained an innocence of the mind that made him delicious. I read it in his eyes. He'd probably never even envisioned sex properly before now, before me, and I had to savor him. He was so young, and so ignorant, his body somehow smaller in the dark shadows that swirled around us, in the dim light filtering through the fogged windows. The way he just lay there for me, _goddamn_… I wanted to do _everything_ to him.

I allowed my tongue to dart out against his skin, tracing his cheekbone; it was wet with salty tears. Instinctively, he turned his face from mine, wincing harshly as I gave his hand a harder pump on my member. He couldn't answer me, the words simply wouldn't form, they remained stagnant on the tip of his tongue, when I finally, I let go of his hand, it dropped onto his chest limply, his jaw clinching as a fresh wave of shame flooded through his expression, as a blush tinged his porcelain cheeks. Satisfied at my manipulation, I grinned against his cheek and, lifting my weight off him, crawled inch by inch up his thin body. I needed him to take me inside, to relieve the pressure building between my legs.

That was when Kurt Hummel suddenly broke for freedom. He had lain there, under my touch, for so long I'd forgotten he was even capable of fighting me at all. He'd been so good, first, sucking me off, then, coming furiously at my molesting touch. Now, his weak body was overwhelmed with a rapid shot of adrenaline and self preservation. He knew what was about to happen to him, he knew what it entailed, knew how rough I was, and how deep I would push myself down his throat to chase my climax. In the second that I lifted my weight from him, in the split second I didn't press him down, he scrambled frantically out from underneath, and in a feverish scramble of desperation threw himself across the seat backing, kicking his way between the two front seats.

I was caught so off guard by this that for a fraction of a moment I could only watch him, dumbly, as his hands clawed over the gears and he reached for the wheel.

_Ohhh no he didn't._

His fingers barely brushed the horn before I flung myself onto his body and grabbed him by his hair, jerking his head back roughly. "Where the fuck do you think you're going?" Kurt yelped against the painful angle at which I held his neck, his hands still trying to reach the wheel. Fury overwhelmed my senses, rage and sexual aggravation; he would service me if I had to pry his jaw open with a crow bar to do it. I slammed his homosexual face forward onto the gear shift and he let out a gratifying cry of pain, writhing under me. _Goddamn._ Blood urged to my groin at the sound, making me thrust against his back impulsively. _Fuck…_ I held him against the shift, my breathing reverberating on the inside of my skull, my heart beat thundering in my ears. I hadn't expected his fighting to elicit so much desire. I was breathless, almost dizzy. "Damn, you've only made things worse for yourself..." But I didn't need to tell him, he could feel it, me, my arousal pressed to his shoulder blades, through his shirt.

I rolled him over on his back, slowly. "Now you are going to get it, Hummel." He was crying again, sobbing like a fucking girl, helpless to me now, his one attempt at freedom snatched centimeters from his fingers. I gripped his face in my hands and pulled his head up.

"No! Please! No! No!" He begged, his feminine features broken in pleading misery, a last resort.

"I was going to be gentle with you if you worked that tongue on me, but you haven't given me reason to." His chest lifted and fell rapidly, unsteadily, hyperventilation not allowing him to draw in enough air. His hands found my hips to push them away, but his touch only burned my skin and lit it on fire. I lowered into a sitting position against his upper chest, letting go of his face to stroke a finger, feather light, over my length.

Kurt's blue eyes stayed wide, and even though he tried to clench his jaw shut his body wouldn't let him, his lungs shuddering to drag in oxygen.

"Now, now, settle down. You've done this before."

I took my member in my own hand and worked myself leisurely, directly in front of his face, holding his head steady with one firm grip on his hair, he tried desperately to pull out.

"Aghhh... open up for me, sweetheart, or I head south…"

It was arousing to see him struggle to clamp his teeth together only to have his own fear betray him, rattling in air uncontrollably. "N-n-no…"

"I am not convinced I should settle for your mouth, Hummel. You don't seem willing."

He gasped out a trembling breath. "I-I-I… p-please." He swallowed against his tears. "I-I-I'll do it. F-f-f-…" he couldn't actually say it. "F-f… ugh, please. Not, not…" I arched an eyebrow as he struggled with his words feebly.

"What's that, babe?" I eased myself further up his chest, and with my free hand I mercilessly began to work myself against his cheek, the better to insult him while he tried to speak. He shut his eyes against me. "You'll have to repeat that."

Kurt's timid begging dissolved into the humid air of my car, his body lapsing into shock, as I started to trace his perfect mouth with savoring slowness, unable to hold back a groan as his uneven breaths fluttered against the head of my shaft. Kurt's inability to fight me was undeniably, sickeningly, enticing, and I worked myself up till I was hot with pre-ejaculate, smearing it against him gently, using two fingers to part lips so that he could taste it.

He moaned in repulsion and squirmed under me, his hands pressing against my hips, trying to push me away in vain. His expression twisted with nausea as I pressured myself inside.

"Say 'ahhhhh'… Open up. Nice and wide."

I began to pry his jaw open, patiently, centimeter by centimeter. Lubricating his beautiful lips with the warmth of my pre cum before I ground my way in, bit by precious bit, prizing the boy open. The cut on his cheekbone where his face had smashed against the gear shift was darkening into a blackened bruise, spreading out under his right eye, a stain against his pure skin.

I pushed the head of my shaft between his teeth and grunted as I entered the soft hot heaven that was his mouth. "Come on…wider… that's right. Just like that, come on…" I slid deeper into his mouth now, and felt Kurt whine, burning hot against me, his hands pushing my hips furiously, and his sweet hot tongue sliding up against me as he tried to force me from his mouth. My pelvis lurched forward at his touch. "That's a boy…" I ran my fingers deep into his locks, raking them back from his face. "Work me…"

His eyes teared helplessly and he drew a rattling unsteady breath. Not moving, terrified that he would stimulate me further.

"I swear to fucking god, Hummel. Do as I say or I will rape your ass." My threat was empty of any real desire to rape the boy where he couldn't taste me, where he wasn't forced to face his assaulter. After all, this was sweeter.

I didn't have the patience to play this adorable little game with him. I couldn't wait to be pleasured, grinding my hips forward, sliding myself into his mouth just a little deeper. His back arched in disgust but he couldn't refuse me anymore, and, finally, I felt his tongue sweep across me.

I rewarded this by wrestling his head up and pushing myself in deeper till he let out a solid gurgling sound, his breathing strained at each violation.

"Again, Hummel." My grip tightened on his dark hair, and he groaned in pain, pushing his hot tongue against me, gingerly, he couldn't do anything else. My member fully filled his exquisite mouth. "_ahhhhh fuck_…." I curved my back, angling him to provide me better access. "Ughnn…" At every short thrust I slid deeper, feeling myself discharge more pre ejaculate, my lubricant mingling with his saliva. _"Now, suck."_ Kurt winced at my taste, breathing harder when I clawed my fingers through his hair. "Suck… come on…"

He revolted, but couldn't fight me for more than a few seconds, blinking the tears back from his blue eyes and sobbing in final acquiescence. He had to submit. I groaned as he was made to draw me in, stimulating me against his will, sucking, his blue eyes going gray like the murky waters far out to a lightless sea, losing their color in the dim light. I throbbed hungrily, watching him struggle with my shaft, his jaw stretched open to its limit in an effort to accommodate me.

It was sooo much better this time. Before, I had been solely chasing my climax, eager to release the frustration that I had built up over the countless months. I had wanted him to suck me fast and hard, and get it over with, not caring about how he felt, but now, now I could take time to admire his wretched fear and his repugnance as I pressured him to obey me.

His tongue rammed defiantly against me, trying desperately to pull his head back, but it was a fruitless effort. Just an inch or so more and I would ease myself into cavern of his throat, and if I hit it just right, I would trigger the boy's delicious gag reflex. Kurt whined the deeper I pushed, and the sound sent more blood coursing down my spine, settling into my already aching groin. My fingers closed firmly on his dark locks. _Fuck… I needed him_. "Ugh yes… ughnn…" I gripped his head a little harder, working him back and forth on me in one stroke till the tip of my member entered his esophagus. Slippery, and hot. Kurt's eyes widened, watering, and his delicate hands pushed feverishly against my thighs, driving up on my hips with the desperation of a drowning animal.

"That's a boy…" my jaw dropped open at the burning pleasure and arousal that coursed through my sadistic and sick veins, pumping into my dick. "Ughn yes… blow." He didn't have much room to fellate me, his mouth filled to the brim; the tears that were now streaming down his face were tears of discomfort, of pain. Weakly, Hummel serviced me a half-hearted suck and let out a strangled gasp, as I rolled my pelvis. He was close to choking, I knew it. I encouraged this, shifting my position, scraping myself over the roof of his mouth as I searched for my mark.

"Mmnnn… where is it…"

"Nnnfff… n-no…" He knew exactly what I was searching for, and his muffled protest only made me thrust in deep, the homo's frantic breathing faltered and then picked up, as a tear streaked from his eye to his temple in a burning line of agony. I was filling up the little fag with a deliberate and relishing need. It was all about pleasure now, fucked up pleasure.

"Did I say you could stop sucking, Hummel? Hmmm?" I drove him farther onto me, no longer fitting inside, my shaft more than halfway down his raw throat. In response, Kurt's fingers slid down my thighs, gripping my knees hard, swallowing back the sore ache from all the cruelty I'd inflicted on him, his swallow pulled me farther into his esophagus.

"That's right... easy, take it easy, invite me in… yeah." I commanded with a raw lusty drawl at his desperation."See, you do want this, Hummel. _Ughn. Oh God."_ A second swallow and the pleasure simmered inside me, a rush of desire almost throwing me off the edge of my control. My own words left my lips to drive me onwards, to excite me and taunt him. He was crying, breathing in as he did so. I hissed, my plunges becoming more feverish with every passing second.

"I got something delicious, hot and sticky… just for you, Kurt, you insignificant bitch." I gasped as my hips jolted and he let out a short yelp of pain. "You're gonna take it in. You're gonna be so fucking grateful. Swallow it down… oh… fuck..." My words weren't making sense to me anymore, they were just sounds, the driving of energy into the air between us. Kurt groaned and his breath vibrated, fiery, and tantalizing against my throbbing girth as I pummeled into his soft mouth.

My self control broke, need tore down its walls and flooded through me, set me aflame, and I began to ram into him now, unable to hold myself back any longer. "Ugh… ugghnnn…" I pounded into the back of his throat pitilessly, letting out a veracious groan of gratification as he shuttered and gasped, gurgling against my rough thrusts. "Ugh! Fuck! where is it?" I snarled, frustrated, ravenous, each plunge searching, probing for the Hummel's pharyngeal reflex, trying to stimulate what I needed from him, ramming myself into his soft palate.

Kurt's head suddenly jolted forward. At last, I'd struck his malleable velum. I shoved my dick against it hard, and gripped his hair in my tightened fists, letting out a triumphant grunt of approval as his body twitched and his hot throat convulsed harshly around my aching member in a spasming choke.

"Ughhh! Oh, Kurt! YES!" I drove myself deep inside, as far as I could so that I could experience the full luscious ecstasy as he was thrown mercilessly into a trembling retch. His body threshed under me, and his head jerked with each throaty protest. _Goddamn fuck_. He was hurtling me into climax, each gag closing the back of his throat on me, quivering around my shaft. The pleasure made my legs weak at each contraction, his warm saliva coating me in a hot glaze worthy of erupting arousal. I pulled his head to me, fucking his mouth, starved for it, taking everything his body unwittingly gave, his breathing coming in throttled, injured, groans.

My entire being shattered into a furious tremor and I worked deep inside him so that he couldn't refuse me or spit me out, grunting with need, pumping voraciously into my release. Squirting. "Ughhnnn… Kurt. Fuck…" one spasm, after the next wracked through me, and this was beyond rape… this was complete and pure pleasure fused with a hate so black I thought my soul would burst with the contrast. I poured all I had in me, one throbbing strain at a time, into Kurt's warm throat and mouth, spilling over his tongue.

He coughed but I held myself in, making it impossible for him to swallow or refuse me. "Mmmnfff" He tried to breathe and I shuttered, spurting a little more ejaculate down his throat. That's when Kurt broke. Deep inside, his delicate workings churned and his stomach flipped over, squeezed, and rejected the contents I was forcing into it. I was still inside his aching esophagus when I felt the reversal. Hot acidic bile gargled up as his retching turned into a heave of consummated nausea. I pulled out just a little, further stimulating him to purge. _How fucking hot… come on, baby. How… disgustingly perfect. _

_Oh, fuck. Wait… not in my car._

"No! Wait. Hummel, not here. Wait." He tensed, trying to regurgitate when I withdrew from his mouth, gagging against his stomach juices and my cum, his fingers clawing over my knees as he struggled to turn his face away. White fluid dripped from his mouth, rolling down his chin and he gasped like a rabid animal, his soaking wet hair clinging to his forehead, partially shadowing his eyes from view. "_Easy, Hummel, easy."_ I lifted his head away from the seat backing, catching the streaming fluid with the ridge of my hand, gathering it up before he expelled onto the seats of my car, pushing it back into his mouth, holding it there with my palm.

"Hey… shhh shhhh, Kurt. Princess, not in my car. Deep breaths. Come on. Keep it in." But his eyes were dimmed. A bout of heat lanced against my hand as he let out another heave, groaning. He wasn't going to be able to keep himself from vomiting. _That was it_. With my one free hand I gripped my waist band and hitched up my jeans, hard. _I'd have to take this outside_. Wrapping a strong arm around his midsection, I pulled him roughly towards the door, kicking it open. A shock of cold air rushed into my senses, licking against my soaked skin as I stumbled out of the car with the thin boy held firmly in my arms. Little Kurt didn't even have the strength left to hold himself up on two legs, I tried to make him stand but he slipped to his knees, and I was forced to follow, restraining him, so he couldn't run.

He didn't have a jacket, and his sweat drenched shirt pressed against his tender flesh, iced by the gust of wind that blew over us. _Two boys, kneeling in the dark, empty parking lot_. Snow and gravel bit into my knees, and I grimaced, finally drawing my hand from Kurt's mouth. He choked pitifully, saliva and unswallowed cum bubbling from between his lips, dripping to the asphalt and rolling down his neck into the collar of his shirt. It was fucking beautiful.

Kurt's fingers tightened on my arm, and he leaned over, sobbing hysterically into the silence of the lot, his cries seeming to reverberate when they hit the darkness and rebounded back at us. He drew breath as his stomach constricted and he retched violently, tears rolling down his cheeks, mingling with the other sick fluids. I couldn't resist my sadistic taunting. It wasn't enough that I had mouth raped Kurt to the point that he was now choking up his guts in my arms, but as the boy stomach clenched in an attempt to empty I found myself rubbing his back, breathing against the crook of his neck, and reaching around to trace his dark hair from his face, "It's okay. Shhh... Let it out, Hummel…"

Those words finally seemed to trigger him, the smaller boy buckled, panting, before he threw up, his body wracked by the aggressive nausea rushing over him in waves. He gagged on his phlegm, choking up my ejaculate as if he were going to die, like he were forcing his lungs and heart up throat. His hands shook against my arm, bracing himself weakly at each convulsion.

"Good, sweetheart, get it up... all that poison." I ran my touch down over his stomach, stroking, as he heaved, until his body couldn't anymore, and he just leaned forward against my firm grip, his jaw open, breathing in the frigid air. Exhausted, sick, and pathetic.

There was something ironic about how beautiful the evening was, how purely untouched by all the sinning and the molesting. Above us, the stars churned in their perpetual black matter, thousands and millions of miles away, tiny pin pricks of light, and between us, all that space. Somewhere at the end of the lot, a lamp flickered dully, winking against the night. The only sound was the rush of the wind, and the fatigued exertion of Kurt's lungs.

I couldn't feel my legs anymore; they were numb from the cold ground beneath us. I let a few seconds pass, allowing Hummel to catch his breath before I placed a single finger under his chin and slowly turned his head towards me. Kurt looked wasted, his hair soaked with sweat, his face and neck smeared with a mixture of tears, bile, and my release. The cut on his cheek had now spread into a dark black bruise and his complexion was bloodless, his lips pale, trembling. I snickered and leaned forward, pressing a kiss to the bruise just under his eye. The boy flinched against my touch, shivering in the chill of the night. "Ohhh, Hummel." I started to pull myself to my feet clumsily, dragging him along with me. "You look like shit."

His shoes skidded on the gravel and he whimpered as I shoved him up against the side of my car. "No, please, no…" his voice was throaty, he could barely speak, his thin chest rising and falling, his fingers gripping the silver siding of my SUV. "Shhh." I pressed a finger to his lips and leaned in my open car door briefly, tugging a roll of paper towels out from under the driver's seat.

Kurt didn't try to get away, he didn't struggle or fight me as tore a clean sheet and starting to dab the sweat from his forehead, gently, caressing back his bangs from his beautiful face, that face still listless with shock. "You were so good for me, babe…" I wiped the phlegm and ejaculate from his cheek, looking into his eyes, before moving to his chin and mouth now. "Such… a good little bitch…" The words struck his heart, a sense of worthlessness brimmed in his eyes, his vulnerability laid out for me to see. I finished up and gripped his shoulder hard, shoving him towards the open door again.

"Get in." I commanded him, pushing him face down, into the back seats where I had berated him, and humiliated him. He rebelled, just barely, but I only picked him up off the ground, throwing him inside. _Little, gay, Kurt fucking Hummel. Such a victim. _I shut the door, and for a few seconds I stood outside adjusting my jeans more comfortably, zipping my fly and tightening my belt. I had never felt so good in my entire life. There was a deep internal satisfaction that gilded every beat of my heart. If love was real, actual, if love could be gritty and potent, raw, bestial, sick, and abhorrent… this was it. This was love, or what love was at its base. A furious connection of emotions, the tangling of hatreds. I caught my reflection briefly in the tinted window of the driver's side door as I pulled it open, and there, against the cold backdrop of the late winter's night, my face was a blur of lights and darks, featureless. I looked away and climbed inside the still humid car, settling into the chair. That face had been nobody's face. Nobody I knew. I swallowed, turning to glance into the back seats.

There, sprawled out, Hummel was weeping girlishly and hysterically into his turquoise jacket, clutched in his fists.

Shakily, I opened the glove compartment, groping around for my pack of cigarettes and a lighter. "You're not gonna tell anyone are ya, bitch? You are gonna keep your mouth shut. You open it, and I'll fill it. You think you're sore now? You've no idea…"

I pressed a cigarette between my lips and lit it as casually as I could, flicking the lighter closed and throwing it into the cup holder in the front seat. Kurt's crying broke for a few seconds and all I could hear was his heavy breathing.

"You understand?" I asked. No answer. I turned in my seat again, the lighted end of my cigarette glaring against the dark like a firefly, briefly illuminating my face, that face that didn't belong to anyone.

Kurt's eyes avoided me, flinching when I turned, and he swallowed. I could tell how painful it was for him to do so.

"How's that hot little throat feel?" I jeered drawing the cigarette from my lips with two fingers and exhaling a waft of smoke in his direction.

"hurts…" he answered feebly, his high pitched voice breaking, trying to wipe his tears with the back of his hand.

"Good. Teaches you not to rub your little homo life-style in my face, don't it?"

I settled back in my seat, letting out a sigh, my hands shaking as I turned the keys in the ignition, feeling the familiar rumble of the car beneath me starting to life.

For a few seconds we sat in silence as I sucked at the cigarette in my mouth, calming myself, turning on the 'defog', and shifting into drive. I was alright… there was nothing wrong with me. I liked who I was. I had to, because now, no one else would. I span my wheels as we pulled out of the parking lot. My body and my mind were now just as monstrous as one another, congruent. I hoped Kurt's throat really did hurt. I hoped it was raw and bleeding and ached late tonight, I hoped it kept him awake. It was then, as I sped out onto the main road that I knew, I wasn't sorry, or guilty… fuck god, fuck right and wrong, fuck everybody. That reflection in my window, that wasn't Dave Karofsky the football player, the homophobic jock. That was Dave Karofsky the sick as shit, goddamn rapist, but he'd been happier than that old jock had ever been. If that made me gay, well then, fuck being straight.

The trees rose up alongside the undistinguished road, I was speeding, miles above the limit, I had hadn't bothered to check. Kurt cried from time to time, but quietly, to himself, not to me, maybe not to anyone. I didn't see the road anymore; it could have been any road, any road, in any state, in any country, a year ago, and three years from now. The head lights of my car pierced into the tedious blackness and cut off, the signs vanishing into gray specters just outside my sight, and the only thing visible, that single faded, yellow line… stretching out, indefinitely, running… running… running…

**[Tell me that wasn't some form of hotness in all of Hell's hot messes. Rawr. I contemplate too much about Kurt-rape. Unff. Next chapter. Kurt POV,]**


	6. Beautiful and Broken

**[I am so sorry that I made you wait so long for this update. I am so sorry. I don't even have words that can describe how bad I feel for leaving you hanging. I would be nothing without you guys supporting me. So thank you. Just know that if I ever decide to discontinue this story, I will update and put it in my author's notes or at the end. I wouldn't just leave you all permanently. Thanks for being patient. And no, I don't plan on discontinuing this any time soon. I'd like to see where it goes. Anyway, Kurt is still half of a virgin. Poor boy. And we all need to see to that in the near future. Without further ado, I give you…. blood, tears, sodomy, and angsty Kurt. Love you all, and I am sorry for this being so rough and crappy-like. I tried.]**

**Reviews are always appreciated.  
**

**(I'll be fixing mistakes and adding more descriptions and changes throughout the next day, so check back if you get the chance, or want to.) **

**WARNING:**** Rated M for strong language, graphic violence, abuse, sodomy, male rape, and homophobic terminology.**

_**{If you are sensitive. Please don't read. I don't want to upset you.}**_

Nobody ever talked to me about rape... I wish they had. I wish that my father had sat me down in the quiet of our darkened kitchen, over a few slices of buttered toast. I wish he had told me gently, honesty, with that sympathetic awkward smile of his, a smile I ached to see again. I missed his face. Those lines that creased his forehead, his ignorance about me, but his wisdom in the simplest of things. I missed the crinkled disappointment in the corners of his eyes but the love that overwhelmed me in his hands. Those hands that strongly gripped my shoulder, manly and tough, pulled me into a hug. I was his son, and in some unfathomable way… I was almost his daughter.

I only wish he had treated me more like one. I wish he had complained about my tight jeans and my occasional skirts, I wish he had made me change before I went to school, take off my cologne, stop swinging my hips when I walked… god knows, maybe that would have saved me. I wish he had shaken my candy-coated world of romance novels and starry-eyed Broadway productions to remind me that the real world was a filthy place, populated with filthy minded people. I wish he had told me what men were really like. I wish he had explained to me what sex really was. It wasn't the fairy tale, candle-lit kisses that I had imagined, but a vile, disgusting, berating act. Most of all, I wish he had told me that I looked like a victim before I had some rapist's erection shoved down my throat and semen pumped into my mouth.

Now, I would never forget what sex smelled like.

Every breath that rattled into my lungs, twisted in my sore stomach, and pounded into a headache that permeated to every limb. It engulfed my senses; sweat, ejaculate, and acid. Pungent and retch-worthy. I could feel it pulsing in my esophagus, pushing its way into my memory.

_Sex._ I would never forget the taste. Salty, thick, filthy; coating the back of my throat in a hot line of disgusting hatred. He'd squirted it in me to prove a point; that liking other boys meant that I wanted male organs shoved into me, that liking boys meant I wanted to be groped and abused, that liking boys made me inhuman enough to be used as an object. He'd proven it. He'd won.

_In the chaos of panic my hands were clawing over his knees, pushing against his hips, the pressure compressing down on my chest like an iron weight. I couldn't breathe, gasping in air, desperately trying to clamp my mouth shut. The whole world was spinning in dizzying sick circles. I could hear him smile before I saw it creep across his face. People's breathing patterns change when they are smiling, that expression reached his cruel eyes and never really left. _

I felt my fingers clench on my turquoise jacket…

_I didn't do anything. I tried to, but I was too small. I hated my genetics; I hated how I had to be so feminine. If I had only been bigger, just a little stronger. I wanted to die, closing my eyes, trying to turn my face away from him. I felt him, hot and slippery, his fingers tangled deep into my hair, as he traced my mouth, pushing his erection against my soft lips, demanding entrance._

I didn't know how long we drove, my heart was racing, I could feel my hands shaking numbly against their hold. Maybe five minutes, maybe five hours. It felt like an eternity of time crammed into a few seconds. I didn't realize I was still crying until a salty tear ran to the corner of my mouth and I didn't bother to wipe it away.

That's when the car stopped, the wheels skidding on slick, muddy gravel, and for a moment I could hear everything. I could hear the creaking ticking of the heat in the SUV's engine, the sound of the radio barely more than a half whisper in the darkness. I could hear Karofsky breathing, steady, calm, and then the hiss of his cigarette put out against the stale morning coffee in a paper cup. My eyes were tightly closed, breathing into the jacket held tightly in my fists.

_He was parting my lips with two fingers, his hand encircling my chin, running his thumb over it like you would a child's, then he was prizing my mouth open. "Say 'ahhhhh'… Open up. Nice and wide."_

Unconsciously, I let out a soft groan of repulsion, a sound that crawled its way up my throat, muffled into my coat. Unaware, animalistic, painful. I couldn't get the images out of my head, they unfurled behind my eyes, vivid, raw. It didn't seem possible to live in any moment but this one, for a few precious seconds it seemed that the notion of anything before or after tonight was incomprehensible. I had always been here and always would be, on the back seats of Karofsky's SUV, in the silence, gasping air into my bruised lungs.

The radio finally flicked off and we were left in a deeper stillness, punctuated only by the steady breathing from the darkness of the front seat. I heard my tormentor shift in his chair, turning around to look at me. There was a long pause between his breaths and a chill spidered down my spine when I realized that he had heard the small sound I had let leave my body.

"I'd be careful, fag." He said gently, his voice was soft. A delicate warning. "Unless you want to suck me off again…"

_"Come on…wider… that's right. Just like that, come on…" I whimpered as he pushed between my teeth and inside me. Another forced violation. I was filthy with him, my tongue trying to push him out, revolted, but his pelvis lurched forward at my pathetic attempt, his member shoving deep, and I felt his fingers sink into my hair, pushing my damp bangs from my face. "That's a boy…" There was that smile again, a smile I'd learned to hate. Cruel, animalistic. His throbbing satisfaction slipped further into my body. "Work me…"_

I opened my eyes slowly, looking up from the back of the seats to the silhouette of Karofsky against the dark gray window. He was smiling, even though I couldn't see it, I knew he was. Shame flooded my stomach, it left me lightheaded, weak.

He twisted the butt of his cigarette slowly in his fingers and it curled like a crushed white worm. "Yeah… I bet you do…" he snorted with cheap laughter and tossed the remnants of his smoke into the ashtray propped on the dashboard, turning back in his seat, watching me in the rear-view mirror, "Sucking it hard…" he grinned and emulated a caricature of a French chef, kissing the tips of his fingers, spreading them out with a perverse; "Bon appetite, right Kurt, honey?" He smirked at me, and I felt sick to my stomach. "Fucking queer ass bitch…"

I couldn't say anything, my heart pounding against my ribs furiously as if trying to break its way through that cage.

For a few moments the older boy watched me contentedly in the rear-view mirror, and then the front driver's side door was kicked open and he slid out into the night. A rush of cold swelled through the car from the world outside, it turned my arms to gooseflesh and a shiver crept up my spine.

They say when your body is in shock your brain partly shuts off, you remember things, but only in bits and pieces and sometimes if you are really lucky, you don't remember anything at all. I wasn't so lucky, I guess. That seemed to be my lot, lately. First I'd been bullied into leaving for Dalton, and then I had lost Blaine, a stupid move on my part… I shouldn't have pushed so hard, then, in a stoop of self-pity and heartbroken sentimentality I had returned to McKingley. I thought it was what I deserved, after all.

The door nearest to me wrenched open and Karofsky reached inside, bringing with him the bitter cold wind that tore through the parking lot. He grabbed me by the arm and dragged me towards him, his fingers digging painfully into my skin. I flushed with panic, rolling my weight onto my knees as he wrenched me forward and my hands slid over the seat backing, burning my wrists. Impatient with my pathetic struggling he snagged me by the hair and forcefully dragged me out.

Icy wind battered against shirt, pressing it to my skin in shocks of stabbing cold. My legs were so weak they barely held me up. I wavered for a few seconds, held aloft by his grip, before he let go. My knees buckled and gave way under me and I landed heavily, on one thigh and hip, by the back wheel of the SUV. Trembling against the cold, groaning, my hands shaking as I pushed my brunette hair out of my face numbly.

Dave started laughing, a sound that I'd never heard from him before. It wasn't smug, it was loud and strange, it had risen out of his throat, but before that it had come from nowhere…

I could feel his closeness, could see the tips of his shoes out of the corner of my eye, old shoes, well-worn shoes. He suddenly stepped closer and I yelped, startled, when he grabbed a fistful of my hair and jerked my head back roughly so that he could see my face. My breathing rattled in and out of my lungs nervously, puffing out panicked breaths into the cool air, it swirled between us like a hazy fog.

His lip curled slightly, tilting his head, staring down at me. "You're such a pretty boy..." He told me, his voice curdled with distaste.

I tried to lift my hands to grip at his thick wrist, blinking up at him through brimming tears that I no longer seemed to have control over, they slid salty paths down my cheekbones to my chin. His grip tightened on my dark locks, fingers curling into fists, and I could feel the aggression sparking through his body, an electricity of loathing. He hated me… and I had never done anything to him.

"You're sick, Dave… please, you need help…" I managed, but it came out as a hoarse rasp, my throat felt raw, and it ached as I swallowed back the pain.

"I agree…" His replied coolly. His hold on my dark hair loosened and his hand ran a stroke down across my soft cheek. A slow grin curving his cruel lips, slowly, slowly, slowly. Immediately, I wished I hadn't said anything. My heart plummeted, dropped through a hole in my stomach, and my attention lowered in slow dawning, horrified realization.

I tried to kick my way back, using my numb legs, fumbling over the asphalt, but my back hit the bumper along the side of the car. "Wait, Dave!" I tried to plead with him, my body was reacting instinctually now, I did the first thing that came to my mind, I tried to cover my mouth.

He arched an eyebrow, smirking at my fear and he followed me as I moved, till he had me back against the car. I heard the air rush from his lungs in a soft sigh and felt his fingers slipping around the back of my neck.

"No! Stop! Please, Dave! Please!" I begged, I pleaded with him, trying to turn away. My neck craned feverishly against his grasp.

He was pulling my head forward hard, forcing me to him. I moved to get away but my limbs were freezing up on me, leaving me in a shocked haze, and with a groan he pushed with his pelvis and pressed my face against his groin.

_No. no. no._ Adrenaline pumped through my veins urging me to run, but my legs couldn't seem to get leverage on the icy ground. I tried to wrench my head back from him, but his grip was painfully overpowering. I couldn't endure much more of this treatment, much more of this sodomy and molestation. He just kept forcing himself on me, again and again… and again.

The only thing that seemed to matter to him was humiliation. It wasn't enough that he had raped my throat and mouth raw. He was breaking me down. I felt like I was going to shatter into a billion bleeding pieces…

"Stop…" I tried to turn away, desperately, and for a few seconds he ground slowly against my cheek, before he used his free hand to grip me under the chin and turn me back, continuing to thrust slowly and insistently, ensuring that I could feel his arousal through the rough fabric of his jeans.

"You're such a whore…" he breathed down at me, as he wrestled with my head, I was still foolishly fighting him, and he massaged himself against my face, even slower, like he had all the time in the world to screw with me.

"Relax, Hummel, this is just a quickie before I let you drive home, something to remember me by."

His eyes rolled back and closed, his chest rising and falling at the pressure of every grind he made me endure. I wanted to tell him that he made me sick, but my voice was lost as he eased forward and I gasped as the back of my head pressed against the car door. He let out a soft hungry groan, his back arching.

I'd done nothing to him. I'd never hurt him.

It's the little moments of your life that flash through your mind when you think you're going to die, not the big ones. You don't think about the singing competitions or the theaters full of faces. Accomplishments don't matter. You only remember the things you didn't do. I regretted. I regretted so much of my life, I regret not holding hands, not apologizing, not saying 'I love you' more…

My body choked out a sob, and Karofsky thrust with bruising pressure at the sound. Cold. Full of hatred. "You have a way of making things much worse for yourself…" he managed hoarsely, pushing, shoving, rubbing gently. "I'd just take it, Hummel. Just stop fighting cause this will go quicker." I _had_ stopped fighting. Lying back on the ground, unable to think, unable to respond. Hyperventilating.

He gripped both sides of my head before running himself into another slow stroke, straining against his jeans now. I struggled to breathe, my hands raised up to protect my face in blind instinct, but he snatched my wrists and pinned them forcefully against the car door. It was like ice, a shiver wracking through my body as he worked himself into a rhythm. "S-s-s-stop… Dave…" I stammered.

He ignored me.

"You know why I choose to screw your mouth and shove you in the face, Hummel?" He was breathless, slowing to massage himself against the bruise on my cheekbone now, watching with satisfaction as I winced and shut my eyes tightly. My tears were sinking into the denim pressed against me, dampening his jeans. He groaned, struggling to speak, "Because… your face is so pretty… it begs to be fucked. Blame your bitch of a mother for squeezing you out of her uterus."

My heart wrenched in my chest at his words, a knife twisted into my lungs, a shame at all the time I had spent throwing the drawers of my mom's bureau wide, a shame at lying there, on the floor, breathing in her scent, breathing in how much I knew I missed her… even when I could barely remember who she was. In my mind she was young forever, she lived in the picture frame on the mantelpiece, and smiled all the time. I felt sick all over again. He made me hate that I had to inherit her delicateness, that I had to look like her.

This reaction made Karofsky moan weakly as he forcefully stimulated himself. "I'll get to the rest of you in due time, Kurt, princess… but this is my favorite part of your pathetic body, like a fucking girl…"

I let out a soft whine, because I couldn't hold it in, not after another rough, forceful thrust. I felt the older boy tense, his thigh muscles stiffening with strain. "Ohh fuck… screw this." He let go of my wrists and my head dropped, panting heavily, keeping my eyes closed, I didn't want to see how little he cared about what he was doing to me.

His hands clawed at his own pants, desperately, his fingers at his waistband, jerking the zipper down.

My body reacted before my brain could comprehend. I was suddenly alert with terror, my shoes sliding on the ice as I pushed myself back against the car as if he had burned me, my voice rising in pitch till I almost squeaked; "Dave, you can't do this! You're gonna kill me! Please! Please! I can't!"

I tried to scramble out from between him and the car, my brain spinning madly, he only rammed me in the face with his hips hard enough that my teeth jarred together and the back of my head slammed against the car siding, my breathing coming in heaves, squirming and writhing, trying to push him away. "Behave." He said, insistently, holding me there, pressed to the door, smiling, that predatory sickening smile.

He restrained me till my struggling died down into gasps and my brain swam at the oxygen intake. I wanted to faint. When he was sure I wasn't going to try to run he pulled back with a soft grunt and worked his zipper the rest of the way down. I just lay there, shivering, trying not vomit, my wrists raised to cover my face, squeezing my eyes shut. "Please… please, don't do this… I'm begging you."

My pleading didn't matter to him, he reached inside his boxers and began to pull himself free of his dark jeans. I could hear his furious breathing as he worked himself with his hand. There was no one, nothing but the sound of the partially frozen river rushing through the stones in the creek behind the lot, lined by a wall of baby pines and bent-backed oaks. No one to help me.

He gripped my hair again and jerked my head around. Hopelessness flooded through me in a devastating wave. Blinking up at him through hot tears. "Please Dave… I can't… I can't… not again."

He was already deeply aroused from the grinding, and my brain spun dizzily, dazedly. Hadn't he gotten enough? Hadn't he degraded me, and insulted me to his content? Hadn't he torn me apart with his words? Hadn't I bled for him?

He stroked a finger up his length, before his hand wrapped around his girth once more, pumping.

There was desperation to his actions now, a deep lust and fury, his eyes black and cold like little bits of chipped coal. He leaned forward, pushing with his hips, easing himself into a grind, shoving his erection against my cheek and face with each insistent thrust. "Just take it." he urged, wrenching my head to face him, and shoving against my soft lips.

My body was shaking again, familiar with this, trembling at the scent of precum as he ground against my closed mouth. I refused him entrance, and he didn't seem to care, rolling his hips, content to thrust his member against my face. "You want it like that, Hummel? Fine. But it's gonna be messy…"

He leaned one hand momentarily against the door behind my head as he rammed with a little more pressure now, picking up his pace, pulling my me forward and shoving me back against the SUV with every push. There was nothing but violence in his actions now, nothing but anger. One large hand lowered to take my chin, pressing his thumb between my teeth slowly, trying to prize me open. "Fuck you, faggot." He grimaced when I tightened my jaw and slapped me hard on the cheek.

Hot tears rolled down my cheeks uncontrollably, red settling into my pale skin, and he groaned, shoving harder, his breath heaving. "Mmnn… here it comes, bitch." He drew back gripping himself in his free hand working feverishly, rocking his hips, chasing his pleasure. "Open up or you get it all over you, sweetheart."

I couldn't. I couldn't bring myself to.

"No?" He arched his back, grinding against my closed mouth. "Ohhh god… ughnn fine, have it your way… fuck." he pulled back and squeezed his hand around himself, grunting, shoving his pelvis forward. He spurted against my face with a straining groan. The shot of discharge made me flinch. I tried to turn my face away, but he caught me by the jaw, taking advantage of the split second I parted my lips for air, forcefully feeding me his member. Slipping between my teeth, and pushing inside my warm mouth so that he could finish climaxing. "Yeah, suck that, bitch, ohh…" He ground inside and I moaned with disgust at the intrusion, as his erection throbbed squirting the rest of his pleasure against my tongue.

The release of salty sweet fluid sent a wave of nausea through me, inducing a retch. He smirked and held himself inside me when I choked on the taste, stroking my hair gently. The salty, slickness made me want to throw up all over again. A low groan of satisfaction ripped itself from his chest and his breaths left his lungs in huffs of vapor, expelled into the cold night air.

Semen, it was all over me. Every breath I drew into my lungs made my head spin. Slowly, he pulled back, letting himself slide out of my mouth _again_, for the third time that night, basking in the after-glow of his orgasm. I couldn't look at him, not after that violation, a blush of shame flooding my pale cheeks with color. I drew in air slowly, sickened.

For a few seconds there was a silence between us while he tucked himself back into his jeans, and I lay there, beaten against the side of the car, slumped. I thought I would die then, that my heart would switch off and I would ease into a painless dark. His ejaculate ran from the corner of my mouth down to my chin. I tried to wipe it away with the back of my wrist.

"That wasn't so bad was it?" I heard him say, and at first I didn't know who he was talking to because no human being could say that, not after what he did. I raised my blue gaze to meet his own, those black emotionless holes into nothing, than quickly looked away, I wanted to tell him that it _was_ that bad, but he already knew it.

My silence must have bored him because after several long moments he reached down to me, grabbing me by the arm, and hauling me onto my weak legs. He held me up by the shoulders, watching how I couldn't look at him, the way my tears rolled down my cheeks, the way my body shivered. Then, he threw me into the back lot.

The world spun in a black lacquer agony and I threw out my hands to break my fall. The asphalt burned my palms open and bleeding, torn on the salt and the ice. He tossed my leather Burberry satchel on the ground after me, then my jacket. Like I was garbage, something he had used, and discarded.

I turned my head gingerly, in time to see him starting forward, and felt his shoe land on my back as he shoved me down on my stomach hard, into the wet gravel. My jaw collided with the ground and I felt the air driven out of my lungs, forcefully, as he leaned his weight on the foot pressed to my back. I wished he would kill me. I wished he would just get it over with…

I closed my eyes tightly, acutely aware of the rattling in my chest, the rush of the river just out of sight, the feel of the ground beneath me, there was no comfort here, at the end of my little world, wincing, waiting for that last blow that would send the night rushing in around me.

He fished my keys from his jacket pocket and threw them down on the ground, inches from my face, a startling sound that shook me from my listless daze. I stared at the little silver keychain, and for a few seconds I couldn't even remember what it was, gasping as he released his weight from my spine slowly.

"Go on." He urged, using the tip of one worn sneaker to push the keys across the muddy gravel closer to my hand. I didn't move, my cheek still pressed against the icy ground, trying to control my breathing. "Pick it up." He repeated slowly, patiently, breathlessly. I reached slowly, and let my fingers slowly close around the car keys. "Good boy."

He took a few long steps back from me, maybe to get a clear picture of how pathetic I was, muddy, beaten, bleeding, soaked with sweat and his semen, my body trembling in the gusts of wind that tore through the empty lot. He probably wanted to infuse that to memory.

"Get the fuck up, you piece of shit."

I winced at his berating words and lifted my head from the ground a little, I was so cold I couldn't feel my limbs anymore, I pushed my hands to the ground under my chest, splaying my fingers on the icy asphalt. I pivoted, easing onto my knees. It was like I was running on standby, like my body was moving but my mind was still in that SUV minutes ago, hours ago, weeks ago. I picked up my Burberry satchel, slipping the leather strap over my shoulder, involuntarily, gathering my turquoise jacket.

"There… not so hard is it?"

I started to climb to my feet, wavering there unsteadily, lifting the back of my wrist to wipe away his fluid still wet against by jaw. I thought he must have killed me, that I must be dead, that there had been a hell after all and that I was standing there right now, continuing my life, continuing this moment for all eternity.

I saw him lick his lips out of the corner of my eye. "I'm gonna think about you, Kurt honey, when I get home tonight. I'm gonna jack off thinking about you. All night long. How good you tasted, what a perfect little virgin bitch you were."

One of my hands lowered to my stomach instinctively as he spoke. He'd still be raping me… long after I got home… long after I crawled into bed, long after I cried myself to sleep…

"Good night, princess."

I couldn't breathe, I couldn't swallow, I couldn't think. I turned hurriedly, fumbling with my keys, stumbling to my door, trying to unlock it feverishly.

"Aren't you gonna wish me goodnight?"

I tried to jam the keys in the lock and they slipped out of my freezing fingers and onto the asphalt at my feet, I crouched to pick them up, my entire world spinning.

"Nice jeans, by the way, never had a chance to tell you." He was just standing there, tormenting me, laughing as I stumbled and barely functioned, still in shock. I grabbed the keys from under the tire, standing shakily.

"They fit… real nice on you."

I wanted to drop everything I was holding and throw my hands over my ears and just crumble up right there. I wanted to scream at him that he'd won, that I would never get up again. I blinked through my tears, trying to push the key into the door, finally managing to, wrenching it open. I'd forgotten about the electronic key system, probably another thing he was laughing at me for. I scrambled into my car, almost slipping on the ice, tripping on the step up, throwing myself into the front seat. Without hesitating I slammed the door behind me, blocking him out, blocking out his words, blocking out the parking lot where he'd sodomized me. I was alone in the darkness, in the lilac-scented freshness of my own car.

Karofsky stood there under the dimness of the back lot lights, his hands in his pockets, his scarlet red jacket like blood against the dark scene around him. Tapping his foot to some playful tune that he, only, could hear, or maybe to the rushing icy river behind him, the way it tore its way through the rocks, running away into the night. The older boy let a small aware smile twist across his face as he lowered his hands to fix his belt, turning on the spot in his old worn shoes, walking back towards his SUV.

I didn't breath, not until he pulled away, the wheels of his vehicle spattering mud into the air, not until I saw his taillights vanishing behind the trees and out of sight, disappearing.

I sat there, tense in the driver's seat, gripping the wheel tightly, filling up my lungs. I furiously tried to wipe him off my face, panicking. Then, I let myself break. I let him break me. I panted for air, threw myself forward onto the wheel, hugged it to my chest and cried, not out of pain, or torment, or because he was holding me, or threatening me, I cried because it hurt in way I had never been hurt before. I cried because my guilt was so overwhelming I thought my heart would explode, and when my insides ached, I screamed, not wiping away the tears, not stopping them, not trying to be strong, or proud.

"I hate you…." I choked into my aloneness. "I hate you…." And I meant it with every fiber of my being. "You sick, sick, bastard…." At every rattling breath I took, I could still smell the scent of sex against my skin… and for a long pause of time I sobbed without words, because I no longer knew which one of us I had meant…


	7. Little White Lie

**[I want to apologize for how long this took me. I hit some writer's block with this story because I don't usually write from the victim's perspective and it's quite hard for me, but I felt like for the sake of the story and plot I should follow Kurt home and observe his character. Because there is a story, even if it seems like insane rape porn. LOL. So bear with me please through these more sensitive moments of writing, and this shorter installment. LOVE YOU ALL thank you for putting up how effing long it takes me to write this stuff…. I am so angry at my moronic self. But thank you ALL!]**

**(Notes: if anyone is interested in reading an original rape fiction featuring a character strongly based off Kurt, but much younger, you can visit my profile page on FF for the link or find me by looking up "_Necrofeeliak"_ on Fanfiction's sister site FictionPress. That is, if this mildness is too mild for you and you want a taste of violence.)  
**

**Rated M for: Rape, Rape themes, sexual themes.**

**Warning: Kurt is kinda pathetic so if you don't like seeing how broken up a character is, don't read.**

_Nausea._

The entire world was spinning, my heart was racing, I was falling forward through the space of my sickened mind, and I collapsed against the sink, clutching the rim. I was shaking, my arms tremoring, staring into the drain. Silent tears rolled rivulets down my sticky, dirty face into that pure white basin. Internally, I was dying, my insides were burning up through my throat in wracks of humiliation. _I couldn't be here. No, I couldn't still be here. _The clock on the pale bathroom wall hadn't stopped… the hands just kept revolving, mercilessly, around and around and around... as if life could, somehow, go on…

_My vision was so blurry I could barely see, trying to clutch to the driver's wheel, propelling my car under the canopy of groping trees, I gasped for air, steering as if I could remember which way to go. The roads all looked the same, empty black tongues that rolled out of hell's throat into the dark stomach of night. Help me. Please. Someone. _

_I was going to die in the darkness all by myself, swallowed alive by my guilt and mortification, my shame. At every stop sign I could feel his hands all over my body, squeezing, stroking, dipping to run over sacred places no one had ever touched before. I wanted to pull over, to drive myself into a ditch, wait for someone to find me… hope they never did. _

_By the time the lighted windows of my house drifted into sight and the trees peeled back to reveal my driveway… I was a guilty, nervous wreck, a trembling disaster of crumbling emotions. My heart was pounding against my ribs. I could barely breathe any more, panicking. All I could think of was what I was going to say, what I was never going to say… they couldn't see me like this. They couldn't see me soaked in my rapist's pleasure, disgusting and vile, his semen still coating my throat in a taste I couldn't purge…_

_If anyone ever found out what David Karofsky had done to me… my brain railed at the thought, threw a fresh wave of panic through my lungs. They could NEVER know. I tasted acid, and squinted through the tears that brimmed in my eyes, letting them soak into the collar of my shirt to sting the raw scrape along my jaw. My fingers and palms stung against the wheel, my arms felt like lead weights aching from the bruises that Karofsky had kneeled into them. I turned towards my house, parking the car haphazardly in the driveway, pulling the key from the ignition and staring up into the lighted windows. _

_I didn't remember it ever being my house, it was Kurt Hummel's house, but it wasn't mine. Somewhere between the breath and the thought I had separated myself. I didn't know what I was. I pushed the door open, getting out slowly… I knew the second I had pulled up that my dad wasn't home. His car was gone… if there was a small mercy in the world. That was it. _

It was a kindness that he hadn't seen me, beaten, and terrified, smeared with mud, and sexual fluid, it was a kindness that he hadn't pulled me to his chest in attempt to comfort me and smelled the sex on my clothes, or tried to stroke the semen from the dark locks of my hair. It was a kindness that I hadn't felt him tense in that embrace, that I hadn't felt him burn with anger, with the need to protect me from something he would never understand. The thought sent my stomach twisting and I stumbled away from the sink, pushing back, falling to my knees on the smooth tile flooring. Groaning, retching on the floor, crawling, dragging myself to the toilet, lifting the lid.

I was hoping against all hope that Carole hadn't heard me slip through the back screen door, that she hadn't heard me creep through the kitchen as she paced through the dining room, a cell phone pressed to her ear. I was praying she hadn't heard me pause as a stair creaked under me weight. My legs had been shaking so badly, my heart had roared in my ears and in those terrified seconds I could no longer tell if the rest of the world could hear me… or if I was just drifting through it… not really alive at all.

He hadn't just taken my first experience from me, he'd taken my entire life and twisted it, squeezed it, and flipped it upside down. It was a steel wreckage of wire and bars and chains and I couldn't put it together, I couldn't even start.

The thought of him inside… the feeling of violation… the way he throbbed with desire, moaned obscenities at me, tore my heart out as he insulted my dead mother, grinned as he pumped his hate into my stomach. I propped myself up against the rim of the toilet and forced my unsteady fingers into my mouth, slipping over my soft tongue and into the back of my throat, as far I could push them, brushing my palate. I choked, trying to block out the horrible memories associate with gagging as I tried to throw up, gripping the side of the bowl with one hand, heaving violently.

"_Come on…"_ I whimpered, my eyes watering from the discomfort as I thrust my fingers back into my mouth. Please.

I forced myself to retch again.

Nothing came up.

I swallowed, stopping to listen intently to the silence outside the door, trying to angle myself better, shoving hard, throwing myself forward, feeling my stomach clench.

_I imagined Dave groaning as I strained to purge, imagined him deep inside my throat…_

That was enough to encourage the bile to burn up my esophagus and into my mouth; I gagged, spitting it up. My body hurtled into a panic as I forcefully vomited up a clear and then… disgustingly white fluid. Oh god. That brought up more…

_I could almost feel his fingers running through my hair, pushing it back from my face as I choked, encouraging me with his abhorrent words._

I swallowed the acid back into my throat, painfully. I wished he had killed me… I wish I was dead. My grip loosened on the rim of the toilet and I slid down and onto the floor, folding into a wretched bleeding puddle of confusion.

That's when the knock sounded on the door. It shocked me to sit up, wiping my mouth on the back of my hand, my heartbeat roaring in my ears.

"Kurt? I didn't hear you come in. Are you okay!" Carole's voice sounded raspy with worry.

_No. No. No_. My brain was spinning, words were leaving my mouth but they weren't mine, they were high pitched and hoarse and someone else's entirely. "Yeah. Yeah. I'm fine. Okay. I'm sorry. I'm fine. I broke my phone. Couldn't call." _I'm fine. I'm fine. I'm fine…._

I stared at the white painted door, rattling in furious breaths of air, lying there on the bathroom floor.

"Your father is on his way home, he went out looking for you…" the words finally drifted through the door but they were much softer, concern filtering through. "Are you sure you are alright, dear?"

I swallowed the lump at the back of my throat and felt myself nod even though I knew she couldn't see me. "Yeah… yeah. Fine. I just, got into a fight a little. I'm a little scraped up. Nothing bad, just a few bruises."

"Oh my god…"

I wished I hadn't said a word.

"I'm FINE I got worse than this in Cheerios, really." If I said I was fine one more time I was going to throw up all over myself. I took a deep shaking breath and swallowed painfully. "I just want to take a shower and go to bed… please, please, tell Dad I'll talk to him in the morning, and I'm sorry for worrying him…"

Even as I said those words the bruise beneath my eye throbbed dully and I was suddenly aware of the fact that I still had Karofsky's semen smeared against my cheek. My body lurched forward and I urged myself to my feet, using the towel hanger as leverage, pulling myself up from the ground and stumbling over to the sink, clumsily, tripping on the maroon carpet, my legs felt like lead.

I gathered the rushing water into my palms and leaned over into the basin of the sink, trying to rinse him off my face, trying to wash away that disgusting sticky fluid that he had soaked me with; that he had defiled me with. The taste was repulsive, mingling with stomach acid. I leaned forward, my elbows met the cool rim of the sink and I pushed my hair from my face, pumping the hand soap dispenser and shoving my fingers back and forth into my mouth, trying wash off my tongue, trying to get rid of that god awful taste. _The thought of it inside me… the feeling of violation._

I spat soap up in the sink, resting my forehead against the cold neck of the faucet,_ I could do this. I could do this. I could do this._ I tried to repeat that thought over and over again in my own head. I could take a shower, wash the scent of molestation from my skin, and pretend this never happened, I could look my dad in the face and lie so I didn't have to see the disgust in his eyes every time he looked at me. I could go to school and sing and laugh with my friends like nothing ever happened. ..

Yeah right…

I looked down at the bruises against my inner arms, and felt the breath catch in my chest. The leather bound watch my dad had given me for my birthday…was broken. The glass over the mother of pearl face was shattered and inside, the hands were motionless at 9:36pm. I couldn't remember when it had broken, when my wrist had collided with cement or metal… sometime during Karosky's assault, at the beginning, middle, or the end. Somewhere, somehow, time _had_ stopped and now it was stuck pointing to the worst moment of my life.

My body moved, my hands tore the watch off my wrist and I threw it into the mesh trash basket by the toilet. I swallowed down my burst of adrenaline. The bejeweled face glinted at me from atop the ruffled tissues and dental floss… flashing the time at me like some perverse universal taunt. I forcefully looked away, numbly straightening myself. _I could push through this. I could push through this._ Numbly, urged my fingers to unbutton the front of my thin light blue shirt, starting to pull it off. I had to climb into the shower, in the hope that I could wash this feeling away. I peeled by sleeves from my sore arms, uncovering scrapes and bruises, black and spreading.

It wasn't till I had my clothes in a heap by my feet that I realized that I didn't know what to do with them. They were muddy, torn… and defiled just like me… and I never wanted to touch them again. Goosebumps crawled up my skin and even in the warm room my naked skin made me feel horribly vulnerable. I clambered into the shower and drew the dark maroon curtain to block out the bathroom, block out the world, turning on the water… so all I could hear was the rush of it down my back… I wanted to wash him off me, scrub my skin raw… but instead, I just stood there under the steaming water, clutching my shoulders, hugging myself, my head bowed, my dark brown hair slipping across my face and into my eyes.

"_Kurt… ughnnn fuck… take it bitch…." I could still hear the slapping working of flesh as he pumped himself._

_Stop it…. Stop it… stop it…_

I lifted my palms to press them against my ears, not caring that the water was so hot it was burning red down my back, all I could feel was the painful lump rising in the back of my throat.

_I could still feel him. Sick and expanding, groaning, and letting go, and smearing his fluid on me, claiming my body, promising he would rape me, promising he would finish taking everything from me…_

That was my world now, reliving that moment, again and again and again, looking into people's faces but never quite meeting their eyes, terrified that they would see right through me.

I stood silently in that streaming hot water till it went cold, till I had soaped every inch of my body, stepping gingerly from the tub, toweling off. Everything moved so slowly, caught in a suspension of my own dread… dread at opening that door, because the moment I opened it… real life would come flooding through. I would have to face the reality of my father, and Finn, and Carole… blocking my way, when all I wanted was to get to safety of my own bed.

I was barely running, my body was merely…_ functioning_ and I was taking deep, deep breaths. I pulled my white fluffy robe over my bruised body and stooped to wrap up my dirty clothes in a clear plastic bag, a trash bag I had pulled out from the roll beneath the sink. It was all I could do, just tie them up, sealing away the mud and the bile and semen.

I straightened, looking into my bruised face in that old mirror, trying to imagine myself yesterday… with some semblance of normalcy. I then combed my brunette hair back from my face, and reached up into the medicine cabinet to search for my cover up, smearing it over my dark bruise, trying to hide it…

_I'm alright._

My heart sank and even as I thought those words, I leaned over to the whicker trash can and pulled out my broken watch.

_I'm alright._

I blinked the fresh tears from my eyes, took a deep breath and clutched the watch in my hand.

_I'm alright._

…And that was the lie I told… from the moment I opened up that door and my father grabbed me from the hall and dragged me into a hug, and shouted at me, and asked me where I was, demanded to know what had happened. I was suffocated into his red plaid shirt.

"I'm alright."

It was the best lie I ever told because everyone believed it. Maybe it was because I smiled an old Kurt Hummel smile and let out yesterday's laugh… maybe it was because I made some pathetic joke about a dumpster, made up some silly story about climbing through old boxes of pizza and Chinese take-out… distracted them all with so much humor and hand gestures… so much sarcasm… how I box full of oranges had rolled over and hit me in the face, how I was chased by an old mangy dog to my car… god… I was just so _ridiculous._

_Normal school bullies… no biggie… I was fine. Believe me._

Then I closed my door, blotted out their ignorance, threw the plastic bag full of my dirty clothes into my terracotta hamper, crawled into a pair of silk pajamas, and collapsed into the white sheets of my bed… and I could still feel _everything_. I could still taste _everything…_


	8. Porcelain Addiction

**[I've had enough with not posting anything. My life has been swallowed up with drama, and other writing. I've had enough just sitting here and glowering at myself and wondering why the actual fuck I haven't updated in god knows how long. This scene blocked me. And so I am gonna post it. I know it isn't long. But now at least it's out of the way and I can move on with the story now. Sorry for the tiny update. This is more like a brief character exploration. Sorry for it's shortness, but I felt it was a complete scene and worked by itself well enough to stand on its own. I Love you and thank you to everyone who has loyally stood by me through my 5 month bullshit.]**

**Warning: Rated M for: Sexual assault, rape themes, masturbation, and sadism. **

It wasn't about winning or losing, there was nothing gained and everything lost, little Kurt and I, however perverted the roles we had to play, were just two players.

_I had thrown my window wide, a gaping mouth inhaling the late winter night. My curtains swelled with a chill wind and a cold stillness fell over my room. I could see the light from my neighbor's porch reflected in the gray blank face of my old television, sitting precariously on the top of my dresser._

_The house was quiet, it had stood, a dark specter, silent and gray, when I, a stranger, had stepped over the threshold into my own home and was greeted by a mute shock of white walls and expressionless hallways. I had climbed the blue carpeted stairs, my legs weak with arousal, past the picture frames of Dave in my football jersey, Dave and my old Labrador retriever, Dave and my mom and dad, Dave smiling. I crossed the hall dappled with mirrors that never quite hung at eye level, and threw open the door to my room, shutting it and opening the window._

_He was somewhere, out there in the night, my little blue feathered song bird, trembling in all his delicateness._

I breathed out a feverish gasp, sweat trailing down temple, rolling to my chin.

_Ohhh god…_

_Kurt._ That sweet porcelain face… all fragility and mouth-watering terror.

I took a few long steps back from the window.

It was cold in my room, but my body was burning up. Hot. On fire.

I collapsed back down onto the bed, closing my eyes, my head rolled back… and I still felt him, a sweet delicacy. He consumed my every sense. I could still smell his faint vanilla cologne, his dragon-berry scented soft brown hair. Delicious. My tongue stroked over the roof of my mouth and my palm slid over my straining desire, slowly, fingering my zipper…

I wasn't disappointed by the pathetic girly, little, faggot, making him service me had been everything I had hoped it would be.

That cute, sweet little soprano had just… thee most lusciously warm mouth and throat… slippery, beautiful, the chapel for that gorgeous voice of his. I had defiled it. The thought made me sweat, made my blood pump ravenously through my veins. Now every time the pip-squeak tried to sing… I would close my eyes and just… listen… and know I had been inside that throat.

My jeans were slithering off my skin, onto the floor, and the cold sent goose bumps up my spine.

_If I thought long enough about it… if I really, really, really thought… Mmmmmnnnnnnnn…_

I slid my boxers down. Skin. Fabric. Touch. I could still feel those nails on the insides of my thighs as he moaned for freedom, and the slick passage of his esophagus closed around me. I had a spoonful of heaven. It was mine forever.

_Squeezing. Stroking. Slick._ He left me raw and sensitive to every feeling, vulnerable, and sick, just like he'd made me gay. Kurt Fucking Hummel. Red blossomed before my eyes and I pumped myself, he'd taken everything from me… mutilated my life into a warped reflection of his own…

"Fuck you, Kurt…" my hips raised off the bed, and I kicked my shoes off, tossing my pants onto the floor. _Filthy._ Laying on the floor in the strips of moonlight from the window. My hand worked harder, my tendons strained. "Hnngh… yes… Fuck you…" I wanted to release my lust all over his feminine face and body till there was nothing left, till that boy's eyes spilled nothing but the blackness of his own faggotry, and he never pranced again.

"Ugh… Kurt… baby…" the words slid out and I didn't stop them. Dirty. Just like him. Just like me. My heart fluttered in my chest and a heat flooded my cheeks. I was breathless, gasping. I squirmed on the bed, bucking my hips in a rhythm, moans breaking from my throat uncontrollably.

_He was killing me. I was bleeding white, gripping the sheets, screaming, cursing, hating him, my guts turning inside out. Disgusting. Panting. Animal. _

_I needed him. He was my meth. I was his addict. I would always be his addict...  
_


	9. Love is

**(I'm tired of apologizing for how late I am at updating this. So I am going to only thank you all for being so patient as my life was slowly eaten by work and I managed to through a haze of dead exhaustion write up some crap and hope to post it. And this is why I only have one story on Fanfic, cause I am too damn freaking lazy to delay posting on more than one. I love you all for following me so loyally… and yes, Yes. I am VERY happy that some people are honestly announcing to me that they jerk off to this story, MyHeroRaven tells me she does it more than EVERYONE else and I know that's true. Cause that's honest and intimate on the level of TMI but I am devastatingly flattered, cause I would too if it wasn't my own shit. PERVS. Sweet, sweet fantasy.)**

**(Someone drew fanart for this a while back, and I wanted to know if they could private message me cause I lost the link to the fanart.)**

**WARNING: Language, rape themes, violence, sexual insinuations**

**[Milder than some chapters but leading up to a nice fucked up couple chapters to follow. Kurt is a Po' BABY.]**

_I'm a day old murderer._

_I can still smell the blood in the air, salty, tangy, warm, like a deer shot through the leg and left to limp through an endless forest of fear and panic, meeting only winding roads and empty lots, till it crumbled against the cool cement stairs of McKinley High school, and bled out till the break of dawn. _

_The boy I knew yesterday, the boy I saw prancing the corridors in his color-blind fashion and his tight designer jeans… he was gone. The wistful romantic smiles, and the supercilious tilt of his head, the arch of that eyebrow and the rose-colored glint of those reflective, judgmental eyes… those things are gone. _

_Now he looks out and past his friend's faces toward something else… toward nothing else, toward an expanse of hazy infinite space that his world is becoming. His expression is fixed into those feminine features, blank, confident, false… carved like he is made of stone._

He was pale alabaster in the blanched light of the hallway, those lights turned him into a ghost, they bleached out his face till his eyes were bruised with shadows, tears, and sleeplessness. His soft brunette hair wasn't as perfect as it was yesterday, his clothes not as finely pressed.

I imagined how sick he must have felt last night, curling in on himself under his blankets, trying to find comfort in his own heartbeat, alone… used… gutted out like some hunted animal.

How long had he trembled for sanity over the white rim of a toilet while he tried so hard to purge his body of what he could never purge?

My toes curled in my old sneakers and my grip tightened on the shoulder strap of my backpack.

He didn't see me there, leaning against the archway to the locker rooms, eyeing him way down at the other end of the hall.

_Ohhh what a bruise I gave you, darling… your confidence is diminished, you walk like the dejected little slut you are, not a spring in your step… doe-eyed and terrified, checking the halls. Looking for me and only me…_

_It's love, and fear, and obsession all thrown into one, and he doesn't even know it. _

_Kurt Hummel loves me, because that's what love is. Some sick wounded animal so fucked and screwed it can't even see straight, so rank with disease, so miserably pathetic it only dreams in colors of obsession and shades or red and anger. _

_What a feeling to know that it will always be me, long after high school I'll follow him wherever he goes, I'll be the breath at his neck, so close he'll always feel it… near enough to touch. I'll always be with him. I will be the haunting in his step and the gaunt shadows of his face. _

The severity of that dark mark just under his pale blue eye was somewhat lessened. He'd faded it with cover up, or powder, or whatever girly little fags do to hide their blemishes, but you could still see it. I could still see it. Those long sleeves he wore hid the grind marks of my weight knelt into his forearms.

_You look like you need a kiss, sweetheart, all alone, there, in a crowd of people._

He looked like a little lost boy, some perverted, dark, fairy tale, caricature of Peter Pan torn out of Neverland… out of place… he'll never grow up, he'll never belong, and he'll live in these days for the rest of his life.

Kurt's bag slipped off his shoulder, and it rode his arm to the crook of his elbow, his lithe form bowed and he dropped it on the ground.

No one noticed.

They walk by like he isn't falling apart at the seams, they walk by like he'll just keep on going, because he's Kurt Hummel, and god forbid he is weak enough to let someone in.

_I'm not destroying him. It's his pride that is destroying him. Okay… well, I helped._

He trembled there in the hall, stooping to pick up his bag, tucking a strand of hair back from his forehead, his lower lip quivering.

_That a girl. Cry. Cry in front of the whole goddamn school. Everyone knows you are a whiney little queer._

He's building us a cage, a prison of mortar and metal, just himself… just me. The entire world around us is becoming a mirage. It doesn't matter anymore. The people in the halls don't matter, his friends don't matter, his family doesn't matter. _I'm the only one that matters._

The unnatural red of my jock jacket, the sound of my shoes scuffing along the polished tile of this piece of shit high-school… I'm the only sound he hears, the only thing he sees. I'm everything to him… for once in my entire life… _Dave Karofsky_ is someone's _everything._

"Hey, bitch-face."

He lifted his delicate chin, his terrified gaze rabbiting over the other students in the hall till it landed on me. He was the perfect image of a doe, splay legged, poised, transfixed by the bright lights of a rushing death. All the blood drained out of his face, his lips pressed together, his tongue probably danced over the roof of that sweet, sweet, mouth.

In those seconds I saw last night. I saw everything that happened to him. He relived it in an instant, and it left him staggering for breath, groping for support. One hand shot out to balance himself against the wall.

He was probably regretting that he didn't stay home today, curled beneath the silky smooth blanket of his perfectly upholstered, queen-size bed. Vowing to never touch himself again. Virginal. Beautiful. Shameful. Disgusting.

"You look like shit, Hummel." I licked my dry lips, just standing there under the drooping McKinley school banner.

"You up all night jerking off to Martha Stewart magazines? Fucking faggot."

I pushed off the wall, walked towards him, I knew that every stride made his stomach turn, drop, turn, and drop again. We were level… and then… I was passing him.

The smaller boy flinched, as if expecting me to hit him… but I wasn't stupid, one touch would have given me away. If I touched him I would have to drag him into a kiss, shove him up against the wall and ravage his cute little body to my content, and the game would be over… everyone would know.

A few kids glanced our way.

I had said a lot of things to Princess Gay in all the time I was at this school, but never quite as brutal as the way I spoke to him then, and I think they heard it in my voice; the hatred that I had bled out last night on my bed. White, hot, burning at my center, grimacing, groaning, moaning his pretty little name.

_I didn't just hate him, I hated him so much I wanted to smash his face to pulp against the lockers… I wanted to take his pride and tear it in two, claw the last remnants of dignity from his shoulders and throw him down in the middle of this hallway, rip his clothes off, and rape his guts till he sobbed and cried and never got up again… right here… in front of everyone. _

_But I didn't. I held it all in. And it killed me._

When I smirked at him, that loathing seeped out of me, it showed the cracks in my face, revealed the rotted lie of it all. I left him in that hallway, shaken, trembling.

… and I didn't see him again till lunch.

_He didn't call out sick cause he didn't want his dad to fuss over him, old motherfucking airbag, I don't blame him. His father had come storming in to talk to Principle Dick-head about his son's safety, about bullying, and violence. But there's nothing the principle can do about me, and Kurt's a smart little girl… he's not gonna open his faggot mouth and let slip I fed him my cock… _

I found some remote table at the corner of the crowded cafeteria, took a seat, tapped the toe of my sneaker, and ate my ham sandwich in the quiet of my own thoughts. I could see him from where I was sitting… he was perched on the edge of a bench, flocked with his Glee friends, his legs tightly crossed, his head bowed, looking into his food.

He had a salad, which he didn't touch, and a diet coke… which he didn't drink.

I licked the mayo from my fingers and counted the laughs between each of his Glee freak's jokes, and it wasn't till lunch was almost over when they caught him laughing at nothing. Stupid kids. They didn't even realize they no longer meant anything to him, words and faces and places Kurt Hummel no longer understood.

His smooth cheeks flushed, he looked at them as though he hadn't noticed them at all and he gingerly picked up a leaf of salad in his girly fingers, turned away, scanned the crowd, found me.

I formed my hand into a white knuckled, tight, fist, pressing my tongue to the inside of my cheek, one thrust, two thrust… _cocksucker._

His hand went limp, dropped the little leaf back into the bowl, covered his soft feminine lips, and nauseous expression flitted across his features.

_That's it, honey, spill… _

But he held it in. He held everything in… just like I was holding everything in.

_I love you, Kurt._ I smiled. _I'm a fucking sick prick and I know it… and I live it… and I breathe it… because I can never go back. I can never take back what I've done. Nothing good in my life will ever mean anything, because deep down inside I'll be what I became last night. An insatiable black hole of fucking emptiness… and Kurt… he was just empty._

I stabbed the soft drink machine, filling the bottom of a slushy cup with a little bit of water, ripping a salt package over it, dumping it in.

_I could only think of one thing… even my desire for nicotine didn't make me itch the way this did. The way this always would. _

Outside in the halls I could already hear the trample of heavy feet, the cafeteria was clearing, emptying out into classrooms full of people that were meaningless to me. Kurt was lost in that big impersonal crowd, wandering around with his tail tucked between his slender legs, like a terrified little beaten puppy.

_I want. I want. I want and I need and it's spilling into everything I am, I want to tug that boy into my lap and grope him and kiss him and fuck him till he cries and begs and drools my slick cum out his mouth and down his thighs. _

I tipped the milk jug over the cup and filled it almost to the top before plopping an individually packaged vanilla pudding over it. Perfect. I leaned my ass against the edge of the counter as I stirred it all together, sweet and slick with a slim plastic spoon. The Cafeteria was empty now, there was nothing but the clatter of dishes from the kitchen, a sound that resonated around me, disembodied and cold.

Satisfied, I shoved the concoction I had stirred into the disgusting public microwave, tapping the peeling buttons, watching the light flick on inside, watching it spin on a sick carousel ride.

_It's not enough that Kurt Hummel wouldn't tell a soul, he's breathing in the panic now… and that's what I want him to think. I want him to believe that the whole school knows. I want him to shrink away at a single glance, I want him to crawl into my arms for comfort because it's the only place he'll ever fit…_

The hallway was still packed with kids trying to find classrooms, chatting loudly to their friends, texting on their cell phones, and switching books in their lockers. Some saw me walking, and they pulled apart in front of me, multi-colored unimportant pieces of shit ducking under my arm, out of the line of fire as I strode down that hallway, drink in hand.

I was king, for those seconds. I was everything. I was the proud one, head held high, better than everyone else… and Kurt? He was just a cute, petite, brunette boy, stooping to pick up his fallen books from his locker, outfitted in his little navy blue sweater, jeans, and SLS sneakers.

"Ughnn God… Hummel…" I let out a mocking groan and half the fucking hall went dead silent.

_He was nothing but a worthless faggot. I wanted to prove that. Win, lose, or suspension. _

A tremor ran through Kurt's body, his fingers clenching on the book in his hands, his face went pale, bloodless, shocked and he straightened instantly. I could just see the horror pulling his heart to shreds inside his chest. Someone knew… someone… everyone…

"I think I'm gonna… Mmmnn ohhhh FUCK!"

He whirled, blue eyes wide, mouth half open. It was that delicious expression where you couldn't quite see his teeth at all, only that soft warm tongue and open throat. The timing was exquisite and he received a face full of warm… salty… milk.

I threw it right at his girly little mouth and caught him head on before he had the chance to raise his thin wrists to protect his face. White splattered everywhere, and fingers splayed out in last minute alarm, his eyes squinted shut and he shocked backwards as if I had withdrawn my fist and punched him with all my might, his text books spilled to the ground and he collapsed, slipping on tile to land on his palms, and ass. One knee bent the other leg spread out on the ground, sputtering, trying to spit the retch-worthy drink out, a pathetic trembling heap on the dirty hall floor.

I circled around like a vulture, chucking the empty cup into the wide rimmed garbage can by the lockers… smirking.

"Mmmnn, yeah. You like that, cocksucker? Fucking lick it up, you faggot… swallow it. "

There was a mute silence as I looked down at the boy gasping at my feet and I could see the mortification blossoming behind his still stunned face.

_Oh the thoughts that must have raced through his traumatized mind._

His shoulder bag slipped off his shoulder and landed in the puddle of slippery wet drink. Kurt was soaked, drenched in warm milk that ran from his dark hair into his eyes and trailed down the bridge of his delicate nose. You could see the dark bruise under his eye… the cover-up was running away, drawing rivulets down his pale face.

_It's too late… the world knows, Kurt. The world knows._

Finally, a couple of my jock friends laughed, and broke the thick tenseness.

"Good boy, Kurt. Taste's good doesn't it? Yeah…" I said with a false grin. "Just the way a faggot like you wants it… hot and warm…"

… and Kurt's façade crumpled, it broke, shattered, and split into a million tiny pieces that he would never fit back together, right there on the floor. The smaller boy lifted an arm to cover his mouth as he gasped out a sob, and his legs kicked out as he tried to scramble to his feet. He slipped on the milk and fell to his knees again only to be met by more laughter from the football team, and me… I laughed the loudest. His shoes skidded on the floor again, and he had to catch himself with one shaking hand as he finally managed to stand…

He was outright crying, tears mingling with milk and vanilla pudding, his brown hair slipping into his vision, soaked with dripping white, his face glistening with slick fluid. Beautiful. So beautiful that for a moment the laughter caught in my chest and that second was an eternity for me, watching that small boy turn his head, his blue eyes taking in the mocking expressions of the kids in that hall.

He should have never looked there… because there was no mercy in them, no understanding… and no pity. Self-serving hypocrites… and not one of them gave two shits about the pain that was burning up into his throat, tearing at the inside of his ribs.

He broke down into hysterics, a feverish tail spin into gasps and chokes and hyperventilation, and he ran… he ran from everyone and everything… and he ran from himself. The ugly truth that everyone now knew…

That he was a little cocksucker, a cum swallowing bitch, dirty, filthy, sickening…

_I love you, Kurt… _

_Cause that's what real love is. A hunger so deep it tries to claw its way out of your chest, a rage so pure you lift your gun and you shoot everything down. Love is when you are at war with the world and you never stood a chance. Love is hating what you are doing… and what you have done. Love is not being able to live with yourself… _

_So you flip one to fate… _

… _and you die with yourself instead._


	10. Post Traumatic

**(Work ate my life until I lost my job and the powers that be granted me more time to write. Although uninspired by Glee of late, due to the lack of Kurtofsky scenes which was the only real reason I ever actually watched the show to begin with, and the horror that became of Kurt's hair when he tried to be Adam Lambert and failed, or that disco-ball Edward… which he also failed at, but he would make a cute Vampire… little gay, raped vampire in True Blood. Amen please. **

**Did anyone see the recent FANFICTION News? Apparently they are cracking down on stories containing MA content. Which means mine might get pulled, which would suck balls. I would repost it however, but you guys who are interested should make sure you favorite me as an author, I'm trying to set up a LiveJournal account where I can put my sexy scenes encase I can't post them.)**

**WARNING:**

**Rated MA for Sexual Imagery, Sexual Themes, Rape, Violence, Bullying, Heavy Language**

**Kurt's POV**

_I couldn't remember waking up, or if I ever even slept... _

_The space of time was blank and smooth like the surface of an undisturbed pond. I was a dreamer, wide-eyed and drenched in cold sweat, praying away the nightmares in my own bedroom, caught in the tiny sliver of sunlight cutting through my blinds to slash across my bed like some vicious thing. _

_I'd lost count of the minutes between the hours, I'd watched the hands play tag across the face of my clock, I'd listened to the silence of the house become the creaking floorboards and clinking china of a living place… and I hadn't hoped for rest, or relief. _

_I had hoped for nothing at all. _

I pulled open my locker, clumsily swapping the books from my leather satchel, lifting my chin up with a smile as faltering and false as the lies I'd been spinning all day. My torment was almost over, the hours flying by, chasing each other to no resolve. Just another twenty minutes. I was just going through the vapid gestures and motions of a ghost…

Nothing fit. Sentences ran together, jumbled, and got lost somewhere before I could remember what they meant.

They called it PTSD- post traumatic stress disorder, Webster's Dictionary offers only this definition:

**post traumatic stress disorder** n. a mental disorder occurring after a traumatic event, characterized by anxiety, nightmares or intrusive recollections, and emotional detachment.

But that is just some polished diagnosis of a state of mind that couldn't possibly be described.

I felt like I was drowning, and all at once in the middle of an endless desert of pure adrenaline and fear, I felt like I couldn't breathe, that my heart couldn't beat. I lost my senses and my time, it slipped away like grains of sand in an hourglass, untold, uncounted, bits of it…

And then there was the nausea… it never left me, every minute my stomach was a snake-pit of queasy unease. If I sat still long enough I could taste him in my mouth and it made me shiver, press a hand to my lips and wait for the bout of sickness to pass.

He taunted me when he saw me in the hall, reminded me of everything he'd done to me, everything he probably would do, reminded me that I was helpless to stop him, I couldn't tell anyone… oh god, how could I even open my mouth to form those words? That disgusting admittance that would ruin my life, ruin my family, ruin my everything.

I could swallow the knife of that pain on my own… but the moment anyone else knew… I would never be able to forget, function, exist.

_I'd slipped out of my bed, out of the cool mint green silk sheets and I'd found my way to my dresser. It was some routine my body was following, some step by step mechanical action that Kurt Hummel had followed every single day for the last three years before he went to school. I remembered the steps, a dance. A fake dance._

_I don't remember getting dressed, sliding on a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt, I don't remember tying my shoe laces, I only remember reaching the bottom of the stairs and realizing that somewhere between waking up and ending up at the front door… I had tied them. _

The books tumbled from my locker to fall out over the white, scuffed tile floor. I hurriedly scrambled to pick them up, a blush flooding in my pale cheeks, looking up to see if anyone noticed or cared. A jock in a scarlet jacket, brawly, and smirking, deliberately stomped on my advanced algebra text, leaving a dusty footprint in his wake. I scooped it into my arms.

"Ughnn God… Hummel…"

_His _voice broke through the chatter of the students around me, or maybe I singled him out over the noise because his voice was the only one that mattered.

This was a nightmare. I don't remember waking up because I wasn't awake yet…

Somewhere in this world, Kurt Hummel was still asleep in bed, curled around his blankets, clutching a soft feather pillow stained with salty tears, he'd never gotten up… he was still dreaming, dreaming of this moment, dreaming of me.

"I think I'm gonna… Mmmnn ohhhh FUCK!"

My head spun, bile at the back of my throat, blackness reeled through my vision and I was standing, my whole being trembling, my mouth partly open in slack shock, turning on the spot.

White.

Warmth blinded me, sweet-salty liquid. It sent me staggering backwards, my fingers releasing my books to clutch at the air, to clutch for some support that would never come. I collided with the ground, sputtering as the fluid ran into my mouth, and drenched my bangs to my forehead and into my eyes.

"Mmmnn, yeah. You like that, cocksucker? Fucking lick it up, you faggot… swallow it. "

I felt the warmth slowly begin to seep through my sweater and stick to my skin, wet it, stain it with the taint of his words… and then the scent struck me, milky, vanilla.

"Good boy, Kurt. Taste's good doesn't it? Yeah…" I said with a false grin. "Just the way a faggot like you wants it… hot and warm…"

My heart plummeted into the pit of my stomach, color burned into my cheeks, and the strap of my bag slid off my shoulder to land with a wet slap in the puddle of fluid around me. Numbness washed over me, numbness and horror, I lifted the back of my wrist to my mouth, gasping, choking in air because the tears were starting to form in my eyes, and my world was becoming a blurry haze.

I tried to stand, my legs slipped out from underneath me, my sneakers slid and I fell down, landing on one knee… shaking.

I got to my feet, and it was like someone turned up the volume again.

Laughter rang around me, resonated in my head, the echoes of a crowd that couldn't be silenced, and I felt like I was breaking into two pieces, there in front of everyone.

_Somebody help me! Please! _

Something inside me was just screaming to be heard, was screaming for someone to see this…

I turned, one hand over my mouth, tears streaming down my cheeks, cutting through the cover up that I had tried to smear over Karofsky's cruelty. They all saw him knock me down, they all knew what I was… they knew… and no one… no one helped me.

He'd stripped my clothes off in front of the world… and told me I was trash, that I was a slut… a faggot… he'd left me naked… trembling alone in the middle of McKinley hall, defenseless… breaking, shattering, crumbling.

So I ran.

I ran through blinding tears, and rib tremoring sobs, pushed passed the laughing perimeter of jocks, through the throng of students that had gathered around to stare, to point, to laugh, to shake their heads…

_Let me die. Please. Let this be a nightmare, let me die… let me die…_

I flung the handicapped bathroom open and threw myself inside it, locking the door, blotting out the hallway.

My breath and heartbeat sounded like a train I couldn't catch, I couldn't see.

I screamed, my face in my hands, my back pressed to the door, but it didn't sound like a scream, it sounded like a strangled song bird in the last pangs of death, tapering off into a tiny squeak that I hated more than I hated Karofsky.

I was so weak. Little. Weak. Gay.

My world churned, rolled, pitched… I couldn't blink through my tears, they stung my eyes, and choked my gasps so I felt my way to the paper towel dispenser and tore at it, flooding the water on in the sink.

How could they laugh? How could they stand there in the torment of someone else… and laugh, and point like it was all some big joke and I was the only one excluded?

I scrubbed my face clean, washing off the cover up, revealing the black angry bruise that had settled into my skin, just beneath my eye, and my hands shook as I looked down at the floor and realized that I had left my bag out in the hall, sitting in puddle of Karofsky's mockery.

I had nothing to hide the damage of last night, and the dread expanded inside me. How could I walk out into that hall? I wiped the tears from my eyes with the back of my wrist and that tender injury throbbed like I'd set a hot poker to my skin.

I had to go home. I had to change clothes. I had to run laundry… this navy sweater and my turquoise jacket, and whatever else from last night that was wrapped in a plastic bag, sitting on the floor of my closet…

But how?

How could I go back? How could I empty my hamper and pour the detergent as if I could disinfect the shame out of those clothes, as if I could ever wash his scent from everything he touched. Another shower, another hour spent sobbing in the pit of the bathtub, maybe I aught to soak my hands in bleach, soak body… maybe I aught to drink it down till it burned my throat clean of the kind of sickness he liked to make me swallow.

Maybe I would go home, and pull the mirror aside, reach into the medicine cabinet.

Maybe I would find those sleeping pills that promised me a peace my heart could never have, something long… something permanent.

Oh god, my father's face if he ever knew. His son. Molested. Raped. Not enough that he's gay, pathetic, weak… but raped, victimized, abused. And he'd blame himself, blame himself that he wasn't there to protect me, that he'd come pick me up that day, that he let me out of his sight.

Maybe if I were gone he would throw lilies on my casket and I'd still be beautiful because I never said a word. To him my face would always be this young, and my eyes would always have the glow they did in the photographs he loved so much.

I didn't want to kill his little boy. I didn't want him to have to watch Kurt Hummel die, slowly… right before his eyes, so he wouldn't miss a second of it. I couldn't do it to him.

I crumbled over the school sink and sobbed into the drain until I felt wrung out… and empty, strangled.

I used the paper towels to wipe the tears from my cheeks and eyes, pushing my wet bangs from my face.

Ten minutes till the end of class, and I still needed to get my bag, which was probably stuffed down a public garbage can right now.

I took a breath that rattled in my lungs and reached for the door, straightening, tilting back my head and setting my jaw.

My stomach flipped.

I could do this. One deep breath, and another. I was holding myself together by a few threads now, the hope I could make it out the door without breaking down. The hope I could make it home without driving into a tree, into some blessed silence.

I turned the door knob, felt the lock snap under my fingers, another deep breath exhaled between my teeth, and suddenly… I was thrown back as the door was shouldered open, sending me stumbling, my mouth opened to gasp out but I was choked by a hot palm pressed over my trembling lips.

Terror clenched in my belly, folded over on itself and detonated.

I was shoved back into the sink, gripping its porcelain rim as the door kicked shut and I was blinded by the scarlet color of a jock jacket and the scent of sweat and aftershave.

_I'd sat for a half hour in the parking lot, unable to pull the key from my ignition, I'd sat for a half hour listening to "All I need" by Matt Kearney on repeat till I mouthed the words without hearing a single one. _

_I'd never known if I could make it through those doors, if I could stand it in those class rooms, if the bells that timed the beginning and end of class wouldn't shatter my glass form to dust on the floor, and I wouldn't be swept up and carried out tomorrow… a casualty without a body bag._

I fell, my legs gave out under me and a strong arm grabbed my waist to keep me up, held me there like a limp puppet, or some gay parody of _Gone With The Wind._

Dave's face leveled with mine, colder under the harsh sick light, his breath stale like the cigarettes he breathed into his lungs.

"Hey there, baby boy."

_Funny, how my heart stopped… _


	11. Weeping Wound

**[Authors note: I'm revealing this story to be BP!Kurt/Intersex!Kurt (Something I have been thinking about since day one) and if you do not know what that is (hold your breath) It is when Kurt has a vagina. Although this will PROPERLY be described as an intersex condition. (Not just the BP kink) So it is also inclusive as Intersex!Kurt. I was toying with Intersex Kurt since the moment I started this Fic but as it got closer to that actual penetration scene I wasn't sure when I should introduce it. Note that I never talked about Kurt's penis... ever. Plus if I didn't reveal it at some point this story would never be written because I have honestly developed such an extreme interest in the intersex condition that I don't have the focus to write non-Intersex stories. THAT, and I have come to believe intently that in CANON Kurt Hummel IS intersex. There are too many hints and suggestions. **

**Thank you, MyHeroRaven for introducing me to the vast BP/Intersex and its incredibly kinky side of FF and Live Journal, and showing me that it's okay to pursue non-traditional storylines. She's my best friend and I love her deeply. And I welcome in 2013 with a new chapter of VDT.**

**Thank you, all for being loyal fans and patiently putting up with my long hiatuses.]**

**(News: I am also now on DeviantArt, so feel free to look of Victims Don't Tell on Deviant Art if FF ever tries to pull my chapters.)**

**WARNING: MA content. Sexual references, molestation, strong language, Non-Con, Male/Male Violence.**

**Please Review. So far I have gotten insane traffic on this, over 1,500 hits in a day, and 3 reviews, I am almost done writing the next chapter, but come on. A guy needs a little motivation. Throw the dog a bone will ya? *wink***

If you thought for a moment that in some obscure corner of my mind my guilt wasn't slitting the throat of my subconscious… it was… that vile thing that tore through my body and left claw marks on my soul. I traded soundless sleep for a lifetime of insomnia just to hold him in my arms. We're Romeo and Juliet. A perfect fucking love story. _The only true kind left._

I, like most children was promised that in the theoretical 'one day' I would fall in love, and that when I fell victim to this affliction, I would understand. There would be some grand revelation, flashbacks, complete with a sweeping musical soundtrack.

But _this _love is a weeping wound. It's rank and hazy like a night of drunken sickness, and I stumble through it, in the hope that I'll find something to convince me that I am still alive. That the world hasn't shrank to nothing, and left me… out here, foundering in my regret.

It's like looking down the barrel of gun, in reverse. '_Just put it in your mouth Dave. Bring some direction to your moral compass cause this is the slope you keep slipping on.'_ The alternative was unthinkable.

I've never felt something so intense, so fundamentally solid, and real… real as the tiny shake in his beautiful, elegant, body, the arch of his back, the tremor of his perfect lips. Where the muscles in his neck strained and tensed at the angle I held him.

His back arched over my arms, his hips pressing up against mine, head tilted back.

Strange, when you realize why men have children. When you look into the eyes of someone and so long to be part of them, to have proof that you were there, with them, for a moment, that two sides of a whole spilt over and became a fluid force of unification. I wanted to be a part of this boy and to have that part of me inside of him…

I wanted to tell him that he made me weak. But instead I said:

"You're a fucking whore… you know that?"

Fear mimics arousal, the pupils widen and darken when you're terrified. The eyes take in the moment in an attempt to absorb more information, and Kurt… he took me in like he wanted me inside. His irises shrank to halos of blue.

_Please, don't fuck me with those eyes, Kurt. _

The simmering rage burned inside, and in a moment I had him, thrust around and shoved against the tile wall, his breath leaving the faintest fog against the chill of the painted glass, his left cheek crushed to its surface. His hands, shook, palming for support, slipping, pinned, helpless. I eased my body over his petite one, and fit the puzzles together like he was lost, and I'd finally found him, my face against his hair, his perfect ass against my hips.

And for that undeniable moment, I didn't know what I wanted. I was half monster and half human, a modern Jekyll and Hyde, and I couldn't remember why yesterday had been so simple. Fuck with him, hurt him, hate him… but now… my hands slipped, the elbow pressed to his back fell as I groped at his shirt, my frustration fisting his sweater, shoving him harder against the wall.

_Nothing was simple anymore._

Kurt let out a tiny sound, something like a whimper. My jeans tightened, and I let out a sigh of throbbing desire.

"You're so fucking WEAK, you know that?! Nothing but a bitch-faced slut. You sucked me off last night with that slick mouth…"

I grabbed at his clothes frantically, my fingers hooking into the waist band of his jeans, tugging him back, turning him around. He slumped there against the wall, face turned away from me, knees bent, his weight slipping.

I cupped his cheek, my hand so large against him, he fit into me, perfectly, all his soft lines.

"You hungry for more, baby?" I said the sweet word as carelessly as I had spat cruel insults at him. My thumb pressed against his lower lip, watching it pale under the pressure.

We were pressed together in the light of the bathroom; it bleached everything to an almost gray. Someone had written "Fuck" on the mirror in lipstick, and "Joanne is a cunt" in permanent marker on the rim of the sink.

In the conformed ugliness of our surroundings he was dreamlike, beautiful, his face a perfect kind of adorable, not the adorable you think of when you see a puppy, or a baby chick, the kind of adorable you want to consume in one sweet lick. I would love to see him cum against his will… love to see the pleasure build up till it released in a flood of shame from his eyes.

Fever masked my vision, my lungs heaved in air, faster now. I couldn't deny how much I wanted to _HAVE_ him.

I cupped his thighs in my calloused hands and, pulling him off the ground, grunting, I shoved him up against the sink. In one rough lift I pushed him on top, the small of his back digging painfully into the faucet, his head cracking back against the mirror, his cute little butt sliding into the basin, as I breathed into his neck. His sweet, sweet scent.

_I couldn't control how much my body craved his… _

_I should fuck him, right here, finally, at last in this public restroom, take him, in this moment, while he teetered for something to hold on to, his delicate hands clutching at the rim of the sink, his knuckles whitening. _

"You a little slut? Huh?"

I lifted my hand to slap him on the cheek hard, my stomach churning with desire as he flinched, his slightly upturned, cute, little nose crinkling in pain.

"Huh? Are you?"

Another slap struck the red into his cheeks and I bit back a groan as those cerulean eyes welled up against the sting.

It was only then that I realized that little Kurt hadn't fought me… that he'd leaned there against the mirror, shaking, and trembling turned away, his breath like a freight train in his lungs, thrown into a shocked silence.

_His whole world must have been churning. Each touch must sear like fire. _

I could see the tension in his brow, the quake of his lower lip as he finally moved to speak. He closed his eyes tight, as if he expected me to hit him.

"David."

_Was that my name? On his lips? I could only stare at him as if it didn't mean anyone, or anything. As if I hadn't carried it for Nineteen years. _

"David… it's…"

I stood there, my hands tangled in his blue sweater looking at him like a dumb dog blind-sided by a well aimed shovel.

"David… its okay…" Kurt's voice shattered, broke, quivered, and tears wilted his blue eyes, welling to fall against his softly pink cheeks with a perfection I could not explain. "Its okay… to… like boys…"

_Something I had never heard before in my whole life. It's okay. _

_I was frozen, the kind of frozen I got the morning my mother told me my grandfather was gone. Gone like my first dog, Maximus, who clawed under the fence in our back yard and made a break for freedom. Gone like magic was the day my mom and dad told me there was no such thing as make-believe. The kind of gone that you can never get back._

Kurt sniffled and hyperventilated on the in-breath, struggling like a child struggles through hiccups. He fought to look me in the face as his hands slowly rose to fit over my fists, delicate, feminine, small, soothing.

I drew back, letting his sweater slip away from my grasp, but he caught my wrists, and left me powerless… limp… weak, just like him.

_I wanted to pull away and strike him, to leave a dark bruise against his face to remind him that he was nothing but a faggot. _

_He was playing some game with me, some homo mind fuck. _

He pulled me towards him, and set my large hands to his waist, right there, where the hem of his shirt rode up and teased a sliver of pale skin, hot to the touch of my fingertips. There was _nothing _but terror in his face, but the words that left his mouth were… soft, hypnotic, like he'd practiced them till they were polished and irrefutable.

"See… shh…" his hush was tremulous, almost a beg. "Shhh… it's okay, see, it's okay…"

Like a rider to a bucking, rearing, stallion he calmed me with his touch, like he knew what bravery was.

My thumbs skimmed his skin, tracing his hip bones, slender works of art. My ragged breath deepened. _In and out, in and out._ I squeezed hard, found perchance in the softness of him, daring to lean forward to breath him in, but like the addict I was, it wasn't enough… wasn't enough till I pressed my face to his sweater and inhaled his sweet scent. It was no longer dragon berry, but a mist of nameless spice that reminded me of cranberry pie.

I felt him shiver, holding back a strangled sob, his body taught with tension. I could feel how scared he was of me, like a newborn lamb.

_Ease me, Kurt Hummel… let me feel you try to tame the aggression from my soul…touch me. _

His body shifted, his hand coming up to brush my hair, like he were about to pet a wolf, barely touching, almost, and then pulling away, almost… and then pulling away again, until, at last, his fingers sank into my dark hair… and he held my head to his chest, like he _loved_ me.

He _had_ to. In some fucked up perverted way we were alone together, in a world that couldn't understand us. But he didn't, and he wouldn't. Because love to him was candies on Valentine's Day, and roses at dinner, and sweet kisses in the moonlight, and I could never be that.

I nearly crumbled against him, pushing him back into the mirror again. He grunted as the faucet dug into his spine. And my touch slithered underneath his shirt to trace his belly, perfect. Smooth.

He squirmed a little uncomfortably. "David…" He had enough courage to try to prize me from his body. "School's let out; we don't want anyone to catch us like this. We could… just… maybe…" His legs shifted as if he planned on trying to get off the sink, on which I had him perched, his cute ass perfectly fitted to it.

_He really thought… he was going to get away…_

"Maybe we could… we could see each other sometime, would you like that? Would you like to get to know me? Huh, maybe you want to… maybe… go out sometime, together…" He rambled like the dumb bitch that he was.

He was just trying to worm his way out of this bathroom with his words. With his lies. He didn't LIKE me, I didn't LIKE him, we would never go on some gay date and hold hands like two faggots. This, whatever this was… could never be _that_. There was no _future_ for us, no _forever_.

"We could try… Dave, you don't have to be so angry…"

_What a cunt._

I pushed him back harder till I heard him yelp at that cold metal digging into his skin till it bit through and know he bled.

"David…" his hand slipped from my hair and he tried to stable himself, his legs splaying wider as he twisted his body to relieve the pain. "Ouch! Not so rough… not so rough."

For someone who was scared of me, he sure thought quick on his feet. I let him get away with thinking he had me, I let him have the power for a precious few seconds and he was already trying to control me… as if.

I groaned and pushed my face into his chest against, then his neck…. Ohhh that was more like it. I bet he'd look delicious spread out on this sink, opening his body up for me. His thighs milky white and… ughnn

"I want to fuck…" my words came out like a drunk slur, hot breath against his skin.

Kurt's response was a more feverish twist of his hips, which I grabbed and turned toward me roughly. That a boy… his wrist hit the mirror as he pulled it out of my hold when I moved to grab for it. He started to push at my chest… I could feel the sudden realization sending him into a spiral of panic.

"I want to fuck you, baby, I need it."

I leaned back, shoving him, one arm against his throat, hearing the gasping swallow as I pushed his head against the glass, his back arched painfully. He breathed rapidly, his cheeks flooding with color.

I slid my free hand down between us, and grabbed at his crotch, cupping, my eyes dark with lust as I gave a nice hard _squeeze._

He gasped… then-

His hand shot up and cracked me across the cheek.

_SLAP!_

… and a ringing silence followed.


	12. Sin, Like Morphine

**(Authors Note: I thought for once I would surprise you all by posting a new chapter. This is a legitimate moment where I don't have to apologize for a long hiatus. Here's a little touchy feely for all you people desperately in need of a little erotic male/male. Enjoy.) **

**WARNINGS: Strong language, homophobic language, violence, abuse, sexual harassment, sexual abuse, male/male non-con.**

**Rating: MA**

…**.**

The sting across my cheek burned a scarlet red.

_red. _

_Like the color of his lips when I'd kissed him for the first time and left a bruising in my wake._

"Dave…." He started, but he never finished, his words foundered and drowned beneath the surface of the black nothing that was filling his lungs up slowly, stifling his courage.

_Oh, Kurt. You make me want to believe in mercy. _

_I've been thinking, maybe we're a little more like Beauty and the Beast, I'm down to the last petal, and I don't know if our love will last, Kurt. Maybe you can't save me._

I knew he was just trying to protect himself, it was feeble, pathetic. He didn't want me to steal what was left of his virginity, the most precious part of him, that piece of yourself that you were supposed to give away to someone who _meant_ something to you.

It was all so pointless. The notion of not being alone, the notion of finding love and being physically, and spiritually, and emotionally united. It was _fake_, and I wanted to beat it into his skull till the little faggot bled all over the bathroom floor.

_There's no such THING! There's just me! The world is just THAT cruel, honey. _

_Love is out at the vet. A needle is chasing its life away because it's too damn old. Too damn sick. Just let it go… let it go._

But he wouldn't have been Kurt Hummel if he believed what I believed, he'd have been someone else, someone else with that pretty face but a temper like a chained dog.

And I couldn't _want_ someone like _me_.

Last night was written on every centimeter of his perfect complexion, his flawless face, his soft, soft lips. Those lips that had closed around me, and sucked to the completion of my desire.

He already knew what was coming, I saw his eyes bleed out his hope. A tear trembled at the corner of his eye but didn't fall, he blinked it away till it got caught in his long lashes. His cheeks were damp and wet from the crying he had done.

"Dave I didn't mean to-…"

I made a grab for his face, caught it between the palms of my hands before he could turn away, my fingers deep in his dark locks, roughly holding him to look at me.

His breath was a rattle. His blue eyes blown wide…

"Kurt…" I said his name like a once upon a time.

God help me, I slipped again, down to that place… and I wonder if he saw me go. Counting the seconds like the final grains of sand in an hourglass before the time ran out.

"don't…" it was just a whisper, and he said with his eyes more than his words, but it was too late, Kurt. The last petal fell.

_Too late._

I pulled us towards each other, the chasm between us close. I tore at his silky brunette hair as I crushed our mouths together like it was the only way I could breathe. _Him_

_Ughnn._

There was hot comfort in his mouth, as I forced my tongue between his parted lips, slamming his head back into the mirror so hard it almost broke.

There was nothing, nothing but the sound of our panting breath, the feel of my fingers carding through his hair and down his neck, tearing at his clothes. There was a sickness in my blood that ached for his. I clawed at his thighs, grabbing his ass, forcing him to move his lips against mine in a wild attempt to gasp in air.

_Yes, Kurt… kiss me back… mmmnn… _

I growl tore up my throat and I pulled him against me till his legs straddled my waist and I lifted him from the sink, holding him to my larger body, scratching his back with my rabid need to swallow him whole.

_I needed to be inside. Inside where it was perfect and pink and warm and MINE._

My knees buckled, I felt weak with need as I stumbled forward and slammed him against the bathroom door with a crash that resonated in the white empty space of my lust. I bit at his lower lip, as a gasp of pain broke from his lungs and I stifled him with another wet, delicious kiss.

_He was all I ever wanted. The only thing I could see._

His legs wrapped around me, instinctively, to keep himself from falling. Tightening, spreading himself to my throbbing desire.

I rammed into him with my hips in a dry hump that made me grunt. He lost hold on me and his ass slipped, his body bowed, sliding, his legs clinging at my waist, parting perfectly against my cock. I was so… fucking… hard… I rutted between his legs, not caring if I hurt him with the pressure.

I expected… a whimper of pain as I pounded into his groin… what I got in return was a soft little… mewl… tiny, and almost inaudible

_I lost it… everything. I gave in to myself, the beast clawing its way out of my lungs._

I forced him to the floor, groaning in my craving for him, pinning his little body with my large one, my hands pushing up his shirt with a hunger I never knew existed in me. I sucked on his neck, holding down his kicking legs as I ground into him, smearing my filth all over his virginity,

I finally pulled away, leaning back on my knees fumbling with my belt, trying to undo it.

He raked the back of his hand over his mouth as if he could drag the taste from them.

"You're a cunt. And I'm gonna fuck you like one."

His blue eyes had turned to ash gray, his hands tangled in his navy sweater, his bruised lips were flushed from my kisses.

"I want you to take off your pants. Nice and slowly, Hummel."

He tried to sit up, tried to move but with one hand I threw him back to the ground, where he landed on his elbows, his mouth partially open. His brunette hair fell into his face, and I traced down his body with my gaze, raking him with scrutiny till I lingered at the V of his jeans.

My heartbeat pounded in my chest at the thought of Kurt… naked. Maybe this wasn't the time or place that I had hoped it to be, maybe this wasn't what I had imagined when I realized that I needed him, like a alcoholic needs a stiff drink, like I couldn't sleep without him. Because I couldn't.

We were in a bathroom for God's-sake, thank god I wasn't losing my virginity to him, that god this wasn't my first time.

Hell fuck no. I'd lost it to a girl years ago, a barely remembered moment, drunken, and dizzy.

And now my walls were covered with the masks to my secrets, those naked bodies, that never sated me, and in the dark… I dreamt that they were Kurt.

He was girly, wasn't he? Maybe he had those smooth arches and luscious curves, and maybe one day I would have him in my bed too.

He hadn't moved.

"Take off your pants…" I said, even calmer.

I gave my belt another hard tug and wrenched the buckle loose. _Ughhnnn…_ last night spun through my vision with the slow sensuality of erotic fantasy. The sensitive head of my dick ached.

Kurt had a hand to his mouth, his eyes glued to my groin as I unbuttoned and began to unzip in front of him. Yeah, that a boy, watch me like you _want_ me.

"I bet you love my cock, don't you, Hummel?" I hooked my thumbs in my belt hoops and slowly eased my jeans down my hips and thighs till they dropped on the ground with a clink of my buckle against the floor, still on my knees. My dick strained angrily against my boxer briefs.

I watched him shift his legs, and kick back against the wall in a frantic desperation. He was only a foot or so from the door, but it was a freedom he didn't reach for. It was the proof of his true longing for my attention…

"Take a good look, Hummel." I pushed my boxers down, moaning as they brushed over my sensitive cock head, which pulsed with frustration, and stuck out, proud from my body.

"Cause this… this cock is gonna be your first…" I said between clenched teeth. "You will love it, you will make love to it… and in return I will make you cum, again… and again. Like the whore you are…"

I watched the color pale from his face, even his faintly pink lips whitened. He still hadn't removed his jeans like I had asked him to, they clung to his thighs and ass accentuating his figure and intensifying my thirst.

"What… aren't you doing, sweetie pie?"

Kurt tore his eyes away from my manhood, thrown into relief under these bright lights, sensitive, my head a blushing red.

He looked into my face, and I wondered if his heartbeat pulsed in the base of his throat cause he couldn't seem to swallow.

"I-I… I-can't." He said faintly… his voice was barely audible. "Karofsky… I can't…"

"Can't? Or won't?" I replied, my eyes alighting with a violence at the challenge to ravage him.

He looked around the dingy little public restroom as though he was only just seeing it. Only just realizing that this was where he would lose himself , to me.

"Come here, Kurt…" I crooked my finger lazily at him, smirking as I stroked my hard length… it just needed to be buried inside him, where it was warm, and soft, and pink.

_Come a little closer, baby._

The little bitch shook his head slowly, huddled against the wall, his shoes slipping on the floor as he tried to pull his knees away, up to his chest, his shoulder turned towards me, facing away, lower lip trembling, hands coming up to cover his ears. Trying to block out this moment.

Without even hesitating I roughly grabbed at his ankles pulling him down to snatch at his slender waist, at the denim fabric of his jeans, giving him such a rough jerk that he slid down the wall, hitting his head on the tile as I attempted to tear his pants from his body.

"Give it to me, Hummel!" I snarled through gritted teeth holding him down to the ground with my weight as I popped his first button.

That's when the little bitch fought, his legs kicking, his arms swinging at my face, trying to throw me off in a last ditch effort to save himself for a lover that would never come.

I struck him in the ribs with a punch that doubled him, spluttering, in half, and gave his jeans another tug, ripping them down his tender hips, revealing his lower belly and the pale ivory slope that led to his crotch.

God, I wanted to see it… see him

Kurt let out a strangled sobbing shriek so loud that it ricocheted in the stillness of the bathroom, echoing sickeningly into the white light, causing me to slam the palm of my hand over his mouth, trying to force that sound back down his throat, before security found us.

_So the song bird CAN scream. It's strange to hear his beautiful voice shattered into something so ugly._

"Shut UP! SHUT UP!" I hissed, my fingers digging into his cheeks so hard the boy gurgled in pain, breathing rapidly through his nose, twisting and churning under me.

"Shhhh shhh… Kurt." I looked at the door as though half expecting someone to kick it in, half expecting to be caught

_Nothing._

I pulled his head up hard, my fingernails still biting into his soft cheeks. "You fucking keep your voice down, you little cunt."

Fear blew his pupils to bullet holes, dark and bleeding.

I let him go, slowly, till all I felt was the heat of his breath against my fingers. "Hey… hey… easy."

I lifted his head, stroking his hair back from his face, my own slack with arousal. His pain had always been delicious, and savory. I traced his lips with my index finger, thinking… thinking before easing two fingers into his open and sobbing mouth.

_Mmmnn. _

I slicked them, wet and lubricated with his tears and saliva.

"Here… here. Come on…" I pulled off of him, and sat back against the cement floor, kicking one leg free of my boxers and jeans. I spread myself wide, my cock hard and throbbing, aching to be milked by a sweet hot hole and an eager tongue.

I pulled his head towards me, twisting his neck so that his whole body was forced to follow. Making him roll on his side, his petite frame shivering pathetically. His sweater was bunched up to display his flat tummy, and his pants most of the way down his hips.

I pushed his face against my cock.

"Suck, baby boy, come on… suck. It'll sooth you…"

My hands worked into his hair, brunette, smooth, silky. "Come on…Kurt" I almost groaned.

_Love me._

Frustration ebbed away my sanity and chipped out pieces out of my soul. I watched myself go, a little _boy_, holding his teddy bear, watching a _man_ walk away with a gun in his hand, and bullet with a name knife-gutted into its shell.

I didn't mean to end up like this…

… A tragedy… in _slow motion._

-I cupped his chin, wiped his tears from his cheeks, and I prized his jaw open, little by little, bit by bit…


	13. Wretched, Obscene

**(I have a job now that's really inhibited me from writing like I want to. But I am hoping for 2014, I will stop making excuses and try to write more often, not saying for this story particularly, but in general I hope to write more. I hope to start a Wattpad and keep up on my Fictionpress as well, thank you for my followers!)**

Somewhere in the darkest recesses of my remaining sanity I knew what it was like to fall, I could feel myself slipping, clawing for survival against a cliff face I could never climb. It was the seventh circle of hell and I… I- was fucking gay.

Jesus Christ. I was a faggot. I was everything I hated. Kurt was the encompassment of homosexuality, with his tight jeans, soft hair, doe eyes, and designer clothes.

Everybody accepted him, like he was born that way, born with that perfect, pert, little gay ass. But if _I_ came out tomorrow there would be a shock so silent I would hear my reputation trickling away… along with every one of my friends.

_Fuck_ Kurt, for being a slutty little cock sucker. Fuck him for getting up every day and accepting himself in the mirror. Fuck him. And leave it at that.

He trembled on the floor in front of me, a wreckage of the boy I'd used yesterday. My cock dug into his soft cheek and rubbed against the corner of his perfect mouth.

When did it all become so perfectly clear that we were both dying? Our days were running out. Sand in an hourglass. Maybe not today, or tomorrow… or next year, but somewhere down the line, all this would catch up with us.

I would carve his name into the shell, and shoot a bullet through the roof of my mouth, my last thought: him and only ever _him_. I would forgive myself that weakness.

They would wonder after I was gone why any man would take his own life. You see, he didn't want me. He cast the first stone into my heart. He threw his delicate hands against my chest and shoved me from him like I was the _monster. _Between the two of us, it HAS to be _HIM_.

_Love me, Kurt, and all of this will be over_. I wanted to say, but I know it's a lie. My heart is a war ground where kindness is a breath away from cruelty and love looks like a massacre.

I traced the head of my dick up and down the seam of his mouth and spread my precum deliciously, turning his lips shiny and soft. I held his hair tighter, till his eyes shut and his nose crinkled against the pain.

Why? Why didn't he fight back? _One slingshot word could bring me down, Kurt._ But he just lay there like a brutalized animal waiting for its next beating.

"That was your first time, wasn't it? Yesterday night?" I slapped myself against his face leisurely. As if it all meant nothing.

If I could lock him up with me forever I would. If I could ravish his body day and night, every perfect inch of it, I would. I wanted to feel his tender skin between my teeth, I wanted to dig my nails into his back till I left streaks of red against that flawless porcelain. I wanted to suck bruises and leave marks saying- _I was here, goddammit. This was mine._

Even if it was only for a moment.

I loosened my grip on his hair and held his face in both of my large hands, cupping it. He was so exquisite. His eyes brimming with tears, his cheeks a soft pink blush. A beautiful broken angel. I traced the bridge of his delicate nose.

He found his voice, it came out as a bubble, his tongue barely forming the words. "If you…" He swallowed, "… I'll-I'll… b-bite it." His shoulders shuddered as he lay there on the public restroom floor, his clothes disheveled, his jeans so low on his body I could see the rise of his firm little ass.

I almost struck him, I could over power him. I could easily force him to comply, beat him into submission. I took a deep breath and let it out, still holding him.

"Sweetie pie, you can try." I guess a part of me knew that the second time around would require more power play, that the little bitch would try to be brave, but he'd already let me inside… and he would again.

I let him go, reaching into my shoe for the flip knife I'd packed this morning, just in case something like this would happen. "And if you do, I'll cut your mouth open first. Then I'll lay you on your stomach and carve "_Cocksucker_" so deep into your back no lover will ever want to touch you."

I pulled him towards me, one handed, to rub his face against my dick. Smearing his words right back into him. Clinically, I pushed the knife against his cheek, watching his soft skin redden against the sharpness of that edge. I released my hold on his hair to lift my dick against my stomach.

"Suck my balls, sweetie."

When he didn't move I dug the blade into his cheek so hard I could see the red blossom beneath his skin, and a trickle of blood skim down his pale skin to his chin.

"Suck them."

I shoved his face into them roughly. "Suck them or I'll stick this knife in your fuck hole."

_There it was._

I felt his tentative lips, and watched with predatory satisfaction as Kurt Hummel, looking all for the world like he was about to vomit all over the tile floor, started to suck. He looked so sick now that I had my knife to him. His face, pale, his eyes a glassy gray. The image of him there, tenderly nursing at my balls made me so hard the tip of my penis reddened with need.

I started to stroke my cock with my one free hand, making sure to tip the knife harder against his cheek, unable to tear my gaze away from the way his eyelids fluttered, the way his mouth licked at me and his hands shook. His terror was sick, and beautiful.

I bit my lip and jerked harder, letting out a gutteral groan under my breath. "Take them both inside... ahhhhnnnnn..." I spread his mouth and tipped myself inside, and felt his mouth close around me and suck. I was emersed in him.

I was out of rythmn pulling and working myself up to a frantic pace. "Fucking suck them..." I breathed, my eyes closing as I rode the ecstasy of the feeling. The waves of pleasure building up to what I needed from him.

"Gentle... gentle..." I said feeling him cough against me a little. "Almost..."

I pulled him off my balls with a wet sucking sound and grunted at the sight of the drool covering his chin and neck, a lowered my dick to his mouth still jerking.  
"Suck the tip."

His blue eyes were a dull soft gray, the color of doves feathers, and his mouth was slack as he opened it for me and I shoved the head in.

"Lick right under the... ugh... fuck it faggot, just like that."

The little bitch knew my sweet spot, his tongue fluttering weakly against the underside of my ridge, driving me to the edge. I grabbed him by the hair and fucked into his mouth now, riding out the final moments of sweet oral sex.

Moaning every time he choked, slathered in his saliva and mucus I pumped visciously into his mouth before I felt my balls tighten and I pulled him to me, shoving into his throat, holding him there, letting him choke and gag, his body writhing behind as I felt my penis throb, ache, and throb again. I unloaded into him, squirting potently into the constrictive canal of his throat. it pulsed around me as he swallowed.

"Good boy..."

He choked again, gagging, and I pulled out... stroking his hair, his face was a gorgeous mess, tears on his cheeks, and great globs of saliva trailing down my cock, and his chin and face.

I sat there for a few moments, basking in the after glow of my orgasm while he pitched and cleared his throat, and spit up on the tile, trying to catch his breath.

I didn't move for a short while, marveling at my addiction to his innocence, to spilling his blood over and over again and feeling nothing at all. He was a ride in Disney world I just didn't want to get off.

He gasped on the floor like a fish out of water. His dark hair falling messily all over his face. Then he pushed himself onto his knees, wiping the drool from his mouth and looking me in the face with sleepless eyes.

"Are you done?" He asked in what I believed he had hoped would sound like a firm uncaring voice but came out as a tremulous gasp. He dabbed the tears from his cheeks with his sleeve, sniffing loudly.

I was slightly irritated by his tone.

"Maybe." I said, reaching down to stroke my dick lazily. I wanted to get it hard again. I wanted to put it deep inside him where I hadn't been yet, because that was the only unbreachable shelter he had left.

I grabbed his shirt hard, so hard he fumbled into my lap, his face so close to mine we almost knocked chins together, he looked away, but not before I sat up, my hands lowering to his hips. With a rough jerk I pulled him around hard shoving till he landed on his hands and knees. I grabbed him by the back of his neck and forced him down to the ground.

"Dave! NO! PLEASE NO!" the pitch of his cry was suddenly more than terrified, an octave I never heard him reach. His legs kicked out and he struggled so hard for a moment I wondered if I could really manage to hold him. But he wore quickly.

"Shhhh shhh shhhh Kurt."

I slid my hand around his hips, gently skimming the soft skin of his stomach before pushing my fingers under the waistband of his jeans and underwear, sliding down to cup him, with a nip to his perfect neck.


End file.
